Hairy Trotter And The Horserer's Stone
by KittyKatBella
Summary: 'Harry Potter And The Sorcerer's Stone' with all the characters replaced as ponies. When Hairy Trotter is told he's a gifted unicorn and is accepted to Celestia's School For Gifted Unicorns, he has quite an adventure with his new friends. I OWN ABSOLUTELY NOTHING! These are not My words nor my characters. THANK YOU FOR 2000 VIEWS! Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling and MLP to Hasbo
1. The Colt Who Lived

Mr. and Mrs. Dursly, of #4 Privet Drive, were normal ponies. Mr. Dursly was a Pegasus with brown fur and a black mane, with a big bushy mustache. His cutie mark was a bolt, indicating his job selling tools.

Mrs. Dursly was an Earth pony with pink fur, blond mane apon her long neck, and her cutie mark was a pair of binoculars, indicating how she she used her free time to spy on the neigh-bors.

They had a small colt named Dudley. He had light brown fur, a blond mane, and was a Pegasus like his dad. He looked like a beach ball with wings, but in the Dursleys' opinion, there was no finer colt anywhere.

The Dursleys had everything they wanted, but they also had a secret, and their biggest fear was that somepony would find out about it.

They didn't think they could bear it if anyone found out about the Trotters. Mrs. Trotter was Mrs. Dursley's sister, but they hadn't met for several moons; in fact, Mrs. Dursley pretended she didn't have a sister, because her sister and her good-for-nothing husband were as unDursleyish as possible.

The Dursleys shuddered to think what the neigh-bors would say if the Trotters arrived in the street. The Dursleys knew that the Trotters had a small colt, too, but they had never even seen him. This colt was another good reason to keeping the Trotters away; they didn't want Dudley mixing with a foal like that.

When Mr. and Mrs. Dursley woke up on the dull, gray Tuesday our story starts, there was nothing about the cloudy sky outside the Pegasi had planned to suggest that strange and mysterious things would soon be happening all over Equestria. Mr. Dursley hummed as he picked out his most boring tie for work, and Mrs. Dursley gossiped away happily as she wrestled a screaming Dudley into his high-chair.

None of them noticed a large, tawny owl flutter past the window.

At half-past eight, Mr. Dursley picked up his briefcase with his hoof, pecked Mrs. Dursley on the cheek, and tried to kiss Dudley good-bye but missed, because Dudley was now having a tantrum and throwing his cereal at the walls. "Little tyke," Chortled Mr. Dursley as he left the house. He trotted down the driveway, spreading his wings.

It was on the corner of the street that he noticed the first sign of something peculiar- a cat reading a map. For a second, Mr. Dursley didn't realize what he had seen- then he jerked his head around to look again and halted in the air. There was a tabby cat standing on the corner of Privet Drive, but there wasn't a map in sight. What could he have been thinking of? It must have been a trick of the light. Mr. Dursley blinked and stared at the cat. It stared back. As Mr. Dursley flew around the corner and up the road, he watched the cat from the corner of his eye. It was now reading the sign that said Privet Drive- no, _lookin_ g at the sign; cats couldn't read maps _o_ r signs. Mr. Dursley gave himself a little shake and put the cat out of his mind. As he flew toward town he thought of nothing except a large order of tools he was hoping to get that day.

But on the edge of town, tools were driven out of his mind by something else. As he flew through the usual morning rush, he couldn't help noticing that there seemed to be a lot of strangely dressed ponies about. Ponies in cloaks that covered their flanks. Mr. Dursley couldn't bear ponies who dressed in funny clothes- the get-ups you saw on young ponies! He supposed this was some stupid new fashion. He beat his wings to fly on and his eyes fell on a huddle of these weirdos standing quite close by, and noticed they were all unicorns. They were whispering excitedly together. Mr. Dursley was enraged to see that a couple of them weren't young at all; why, that stallion had to be older than he was, and wearing an emerald-green cloak! The nerve of him! But then it struck Mr. Dursley that this was probably some silly stunt- these ponies were obviously collecting for something...yes, that would be it. Mr. Dursley moved on and a few minutes later, Mr. Dursley arrived at the Grunnings front door, his mind back on tools.

Mr. Dursley always sat with his back to the window in his office on the ninth floor. If he hadn't, he might have found it harder to concentrate on tools that morning. _He_ didn't see the owls swooping past in broad daylight, though ponies down in the street did; they pointed and gazed open-mouthed as owl after owl sped overhead. Most of them had never seen an owl, even at nighttime. Mr. Dursley, however, had a perfectly normal, owl-free morning. He yelled at five different ponies. He wrote several important letters and shouted a bit more. He was in a very good mood until lunchtime, when he thought he'd stretch his legs and walk across the road to buy himself a bun from the Cakes' bakery.

He'd forgotten all about the ponies in cloaks until he passed a group of them next to the Cakes'. He eyed them angrily as he passed. He didn't know why, but they made him uneasy. This bunch were whispering excitedly, too, and he couldn't see a single collecting tin. It was on his way back past them, clutching a large doughnut in a bag, that he caught a few words of what they were saying.

"The Trotters, that's right, that's what I heard-"

"-yes, their colt, Hairy-"

Mr. Dursley stopped dead. Fear flooded him. He looked back at the whisperers as if he wanted to say something to them, but thought better of it.

He dashed back across the road, hurried up to his office, snapped at his secretary not to disturb him, seized his quill, and had almost finished writing 'Dear Petunia,' when he changed his mind. He put the quill back down and stroked his mustache, thinking...no, he was being stupid. Trotter wasn't such an unusual name. He was sure there were lots of ponies called Trotter who had a colt named Hairy. Come to think of it, he wasn't even sure his nephew _was_ called Hairy. He'd never even seen the colt. It might have been Harvey. Or Harold. There was no point in worrying Mrs. Dursley; she always got so upset at any mention of her sister. He didn't blame her- if _he'd_ had a sister like that...but all the same, those ponies in cloaks...

He found it a lot harder to concentrate on tools that afternoon and when he left the building at five o' clock, he was still so worried that he walked straight into somepony just outside the door.

"Sorry," he grunted, as the tiny old stallion stumbled and almost fell. It was a few seconds before Mr. Dursley realized that the stallion was wearing a violet cloak. He didn't seem at all upset at being almost knocked to the ground. On the contrary, his face split into a wide smile and he spoke in a squeaky voice that made passersby stare.

"Don't be sorry, my dear sir, for nothing could upset me today! Rejoice, for You-Know-Who has gone at last! Even Muggles like yourself should be celebrating, this happy, happy day!"

And the old stallion hugged Mr. Dursley and trotted off.

Mr. Dursley stood rooted to the spot. He had been hugged by a complete stranger. He also thought he had been called a Muggle, whatever that was. He was rattled. He hurried and hailed a cab and climbed in.

"Number Four, Privet Drive!" He ordered the Earth pony, hoping he was imagining things, which he had never hoped before, because he didn't approve of imagination.

As he climbed out of the cab and payed the Earth pony some bits, the first thing he saw- and it didn't improve his mood- was the tabby cat he'd spotted that morning. It was now sitting on his garden wall. He was sure it was the same one; it had the same marking around it's eyes and on it's back leg.

"Shoo!" Said Mr. Dursley loudly.

The cat didn't move. It just gave him a stern look. Was this normal cat behavior? Mr. Dursley wondered. Trying to pull himself together, he let himself into the house. He was still determined not to mention anything to his wife.

Mrs. Dursley had had a nice, normal day. She told him over dinner all about Mrs. Next Door's problem with her filly and how Dudley had learned a new word ("Won't!"). Mr. Dursley tried to act normally. When Dudley had been put to bed, he went into the living room in time to catch the last report on the radio.

"And finally, bird-watchers everywhere have reported that the nation's owls have been behaving very unusually today. Although owls normally hunt at night and are hardly ever seen in daylight, there have been hundreds of sightings of these birds flying in every direction since Celestia raised the sun. Experts are unable to explain why the owls have suddenly changed their sleeping patterns," The newscaster allowed himself an unseen grin, "Most mysterious. And now, over to Jim McGuffin with the weather the Pegasi have planned. Going to be anymore showers of owls tonight, Jim?"

"Well, Ted," Said the weatherpony, which Mr. Dursley had always pictured a Pegasus, "I don't know about that, but it's not only the owls that have been acting oddly today. Ponies as far apart as Canterlot, Fillydelphia, and Manehatten have been writing in to tell me that instead of the rain us Pegasi promised yesterday, they've had a downpour of shooting stars! A report from Cloudsdale said that a very clumsy Pegasus by the name of Derpy Hooves had somehow entered the weather factory and messed everypony up. But I can promise a wet night tonight."

Mr. Dursley sat frozen in his armchair. Owls flying by daylight? Mysterious ponies in cloaks all over the place? And a whisper, a whisper about the Trotters...

Mrs. Dursley came into the living room carrying two cups of tea on a tray in her mouth. It was no good. He'd have to say something to her. He cleared his throat nervously. "Er- Petunia, dear- you haven't heard from your sister lately, have you?"

As he had expected, Mrs. Dursley looked shocked and angry. After all, they normally pretended she didn't have a sister.

"No," she said sharply, "Why?"

"Funny stuff on the news," Mr. Dursley mumbled, "Owls...shooting starts...and there were a lot of funny-looking ponies in town today...all unicorns..."

 _"S_ o?" Snapped Mrs. Dursley.

"Well, I just though...maybe...it was something to do with...you know.. _.he_ r herd."

Mrs. Dursley sipped her tea through pursed lips. Mr. Dursley wondered whether he dared tell her he'd heard the name 'Trotter.' He decided he didn't dare. Instead he said, as casually as he could,

"Their colt- he'd be about Dudley's age now, wouldn't he?"

"I suppose so," said Mrs. Dursley stiffly.

"What's his name again? Howard, isn't it?"

"Hairy. Nasty, common name, if you ask me."

"Oh, yes," said Mr. Dursley, his heart sinking horribly, "Yes, I quite agree."

He didn't say another word on the subject as they went upstairs to bed. While Mrs. Dursley was in the bathroom, Mr. Dursley crept to the bedroom window and peered down into the front garden. The cat was still there. It was staring down Privet Drive as though it were waiting for something.

Was he imagining things? Could all this have anything to do with the Trotters? If it did...if it got out that they were related to a pair of- well, he didn't think he could bear it.

The Dursleys got into bed. Mrs. Dursley fell asleep quickly but Mr. Dursley lay awake, turning it all over in his mind. His last, comforting thought before he fell asleep was that even if the Trotters _wer_ e involved, there was no reason for them to come near him and Mrs. Dursley. The Trotters knew very well what he and Petunia thought about them and their kind...He couldn't see how he and Petunia could get mixed up in anything that might be going on- he yawned and turned over- it couldn't affect _the_ m...

How very wrong he was.

Mr. Dursley might have been drifting into an uneasy sleep, but the cat on the wall outside was showing no Sign of sleepiness. It was sitting as still as a statue, it's eyes fixed unblinkingly on the far corner of Privet Drive. It didn't so much as quiver when a house door slammed on the next street, nor when two owls swooped overhead. In fact, it was nearly midnight before the cat moved at all.

A unicorn stallion appeared on the corner the cat had been watching, appeared so suddenly and silently you'd have thought he'd just popped out of the ground. The cat's tail twitched and its eyes narrowed.

Nothing like this stallion had ever been seen on Privet Drive. He was tall, thin, and very old, judging my the silver of his mane and beard, which were both long enough to tuck into his belt. He was wearing long robes over his light blue fur, a purple cloak that swept the ground behind him and hid his tail, and high-heeled buckled boots. His blue eyes were light, bright, and sparkling behind half-moon spectacles and his nose was very long and crooked, as though it had been broken at least twice. Under his cloak, his cutie mark was a dark blue star. This stallion's name was Albus Dumbledore.

Albus Dumbledore didn't seem to realize that he had just arrived in a street where everything from his name to his boots was unwelcome. He was busy rummaging in his satchel bag, looking for something. But he did seem to realize he was being watched, because he looked up suddenly at the cat, which was still staring at him from the other end of the street. For some reason, the sight of the cat seemed to amuse him. He chuckled and muttered, "I should have known."

He found what he was looking for in his satchel's inside pocket. It seemed to be a silver cigarette lighter. Using his magic, he flicked it open, held it up in the air, and clicked it. The nearest street lamp's flame went out. He clicked it again- the next street lamp flickered into darkness. Twelve times he clicked the Put-Outer, until the only lights left on the whole street were two tiny pinpricks in the distance, which were the eyes on the cat watching him. If anypony looked out of their window now, even beady-eyed Mrs. Dursley, they wouldn't be able to see anything that was happening down on the pavement. Dumbledore slipped the Put-Outer back inside his satchel and set off down the street toward number four, where he sat down by the wall next to the cat. He didn't look at it, but after a moment he spoke to it.

"Fancy seeing you here, Professor McGonagall."

He turned to smile at the tabby, but it had gone. Instead he was smiling at a rather severe-looking mare who was wearing square glasses exactly the shape of the markings the cat had had around its eyes. She, too, was wearing a cloak, an emerald one, over her light orange fur. Under the cloak, her cutie mark was a unicorn horn in a circle made up of two arrows, just the shape of the mark the cat had on its leg. Her black mane was drawn into a tight bun. She looked distinctly ruffled.

"How did you know it was me?" She asked.

"My dear Professor, I've never seen a cat sit so stiffly."

"You'd be stiff if you'd been sitting on a brick wall all day," said Professor McGonagall.

"All day? When you could have been celebrating? I must have passed at least a dozen feasts and parties on my way here."

Professor McGonagall sniffed angrily.

"Oh, yes, everypony's celebrating, all right," she said impatiently, "You'd think they'd be a bit more careful, but no- even the Muggles have noticed something's been going on. It was on their news." She jerked her head back at the Dursley's dark living-room window, "I heard it. Flocks of owls...shooting stars, thought that turned out to be a Pegasus...Well, they're not completely stupid. They were bound to notice something."

"You can't blame them," said Dumbledore gently, "We've had precious little to celebrate for 132 moons."

"I know that," said Professor McGonagall irritably, "But that's no reason to lose our heads. Unicorns are being downright careless, out on the streets in broad daylight, not even dressed in Muggle clothes, swapping rumors."

She threw a sharp, sideways glance at Dumbledore here, as though hoping he was going to tell her something, but he didn't, so she went on. "A fine thing it would be if, on the very day You-Know-Who seems to have disappeared at last, the Muggles found out about us all. I suppose he really _has_ gone, Dumbledore?"

"It certainly seems so," said Dumbledore, "We have much to be thankful for. Would you care for a lemon drop?"

"A _what_?"

"A lemon drop. They're a kind of Muggle sweet I'm rather fond of."

"No, thank you," said Professor McGonagall coldly, as though he didn't think this was the moment for lemon drops, "As I say, even if You-Know-Who _has_ gone-"

"My dear Professor, surely a sensible pony like yourself can call him by his name? All this 'You-Know-Who' nonsense- for 132 moons I have been trying to persuade ponies to call him by his proper name: _Voldemort_." Professor McGonagall flinched, but Dumbledore, who was unsticking two lemon drops using his magic, seemed not to notice, "It all gets so confusing if we keep saying 'You-Know-Who.' I have never seen any reason to be frightened of saying Voldemort's name."

"I know you haven't," said Professor McGonagall, sounding half exasperated, half admiring, "But you're different. Everypony knows you're the only one You-Know- oh, all right, _Voldemort_ , was frightened of."

"You flatter me," said Dumbledore calmly, "Voldemort had powers I will never have."

"Only because you're too- well- _noble_ to use them."

"It's lucky it's dark. I haven't blushed so much since Madam Pomfrey told me she liked my new earmuffs."

Professor McGonagall shot a sharp look at Dumbledore and said, "The owls are nothing next to the _rumors_ that are flying around. You know what everypony's saying? About why he's disappeared? About what finally stopped him?"

It seemed that Professor McGonagall had reached the point she was most anxious to discuss, the real reason she had been waiting on a cold, hard wall all day, for neither as a cat nor as a mare had she fixed Dumbledore with such a piercing stare as she did now. It was plain that whatever 'everypony' was saying, she was not going to believe it until Dumbledore told her it was true. Dumbledore, however, was choosing another lemon drop and did not answer.

"What they're _saying_ ," she pressed on, "is that last night Voldemort turned up in Godric's Hollow. He went to find the Trotters. The rumor is that Lily and James Trotter are- are- that they're- _dead_."

Dumbledore bowed his head. Professor McGonagall gasped.

"Lily and James...I can't believe it...I didn't want to believe it...oh, Albus..."

Dumbledore reached out and patted her on the shoulder. "I know...I know..." he said heavily.

Professor McGonagall's voice trembled as she went on. "That's not all. They're saying he tried to kill the Trotter's colt, Hairy. But- he couldn't. He couldn't kill that little colt. No pony knows why, or how, but they're saying that when he couldn't kill Hairy Trotter, Voldemort's somehow broke- and that's why he's gone."

Dumbledore nodded glumly.

"It's- it's _true_?" Faltered Professor McGonagall, "After all he's done...all the ponies he's killed...he couldn't kill a little colt? It's just astounding...of all the things to stop him...but how in the name of Celestia did Hairy survive?"

"We can only guess," said Dumbledore, "We may never know."

Professor McGonagall pulled out a lace handkerchief using magic and dabbed at her eyes beneath her spectacles. Dumbledore gave a great sniff as he took a golden watch from his cloak's pocket and examined it. It was a very odd watch. It had twelve hands but no numbers; instead, little planets were moving around the edge. It must have made sense to Dumbledore, though, because he put it back in his pocket and said, "Hagrid's late. I suppose it was he who told you I'd be here, by the way?"

"Yes," said Professor McGonagall, "And I don't suppose you're going to tell me _why_ you're here, of all places?"

"I've come to bring Hairy to his aunt and uncle. They're the only family he has left now."

"You don't mean- you _can't_ mean the ponies who live _here_?" Cried Professor McGonagall, jumping to her hooves and pointing at number four with her front hoof, "Dumbledore- you can't. I've been watching them all day. You couldn't find two ponies who are less like us. And they've got this colt- I saw him kicking his mother all the way up the street, screaming for sweets. Hairy Trotter come and live here!"

"It's the best place for him," said Dumbledore firmly, "His aunt and uncle will be able to explain everything to him when he's older. I've written them a letter."

"A letter?" Repeated Professor McGonagall faintly, sitting back down on the ground, "Really, Dumbledore, you think you can explain all this in a letter? These ponies will never understand him! He'll be famous- a legend- I wouldn't be surprised if today was known as Hairy Trotter day in the future- there will be books written about Hairy- every foal in our world will know his name!"

"Exactly," said Dumbledore, looking very seriously over the top of his half-moon glasses, "It would be enough to turn any colt's head. Famous before he can walk and talk! Famous for something he won't even remember! Can't you see how much better off he'll be, growing up away from all that until he's ready to take it?"

Professor McGonagall opened her mouth, changed her mind, swallowed, and then said, "Yes- yes, you're right, of course. But how is the colt getting here, Dumbledore?" She eyed his satchel suddenly as thought she thought he might be hiding Hairy inside it.

"Hagrid's bringing him."

"You think it- _wise_ \- to trust Hagrid with something as important as this?"

"I would trust Hagrid with my life," said Dumbledore.

"I'm not saying his heart isn't in the right place," said Professor McGonagall grudgingly, "but you can't pretend he's not careless. He does tend to- what was that?"

A low rattling sound had broken the silence around them. It grew steadily louder as they looked up and down the street for some sign of a lantern; it swelled to a clatter as they both looked up at the sky- and a huge flying chariot- not being pulled by Pegasi- fell out of the air and landed on the road in front of them.

If the chariot was huge, it was nothing to the unicorn stallion sitting astride it. He was almost twice as tall as a normal stallion and at least five times as wide. He looked simply too big to be allowed, and so _wild_ \- long tangles of bushy black mane and beard hid most of his dark green fur covered face, he had hooves the size of trash can lids, and his back hooves were in leather boots like baby dolphins. His cutie mark was a picture of garden tools. In his vast, muscular front left hoof he was holding a bundle of blankets.

"Hagrid," said Dumbledore, sounding relieved, "At last. And where did you get that chariot?"

"Borrowed it, Professor Dumbledore, sir," said the giant, climbing carefully out of the chariot as he spoke, "Young Sirius Black lent it to me. I've got him, sir."

"No problems, were there?"

"No, sir- house was almost destroyed, but I got him out all right before the Muggles started swarmin' around. He fell asleep as we was flyin' over Bristol."

Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall bent forward over the bundle of blankets. Inside, just visible, was a unicorn foal colt with golden fur, fast asleep. Under a tuft of jet-black mane over his forehead they could see a curiously shaped cut, like a bolt of lightning.

"Is that where-?" Whispered Professor McGonagall.

"Yes," said Dumbledore, "He'll have that scar forever.

"Couldn't you do something about it, Dumbledore?"

"Even if I could, I wouldn't. Scars can come in handy. I have one myself above my left front knee that is a perfect map of the London Underground. Well- give him here, Hagrid- we'd better get this over with."

Dumbledore took Hairy in his hoof and turned toward the Dursleys' house.

"Could I- could I say good-bye to him, sir?" Asked Hagrid. He bent his great, shaggy head over Hairy and gave him what must have been a very scratchy, whiskery kiss. Then, suddenly, Hagrid let out a howl like a wounded dog.

"Shhh!" Hissed Professor McGonagall, "you'll wake the Muggles!"

"S-s-sorry," Sobbed Hagrid, taking out a large, spotted handkerchief and burying his face in it, "But I c-c-can't stand it- Lily an' James dead- an' poor little Hairy off ter live with Muggles-"

"Yes, yes, it's all very sad, but get a grip on yourself, Hagrid, or we'll be found," Professor McGonagall whispered, patting Hagrid gingerly on the side as Dumbledore stepped over the low garden wall and walked to the front door. He laid Hairy gently on the doorstep, took a letter out of his satchel, tucked it inside Hairy's blankets, and then came back to the other two. For a full minute the three of them stood there and looked at the little bundle; Hagrid's shoulders shook, Professor McGonagall blinked furiously, and the twinkling light that usually shone from Dumbledore's eyes seemed to have gone out.

"Well," said Dumbledore finally, "that's that. We've no business staying here. We may as well go and join the celebrations."

"Yeah," said Hagrid in a very muffled voice, "I'll be takin' Sirius his chariot back. G'night, Professor McGonagall- Professor Dumbledore, sir."

Wiping his streaming eyes on his hoof, Hagrid swung himself into the chariot and told it where to go; with a clatter it rose into the air and off into the night.

"I shall see you soon, I expect, Professor McGonagall," said Dumbledore, nodding to her. Professor McGonagall blew her nose in reply.

Dumbledore turned and walked back down the street. On the corner he stopped and took out the silver Put-Outer. He clicked it once, and twelve balls of fire sped back to their street lamps so that Privet Drive glowed suddenly Orange and he could make out a tabby cat slinking around the corner at the other end of the street. He could just see the bundle of blankets on the step of number four.

"Good luck, Hairy," he murmured. His horn glowed and with a bright and silent flash, he was gone.

A breeze ruffled the neat hedges of Privet Drive, which lay silent and tidy under the inky sky, the very last place you would expect astonishing things to happen. Hairy Trotter rolled over inside his blankets without waking up. One small hoof closed on the letter beside him and he slept on, not knowing he was special, not knowing he was famous, not knowing he would be woken in a few hours' time by Mrs. Dursley's scream as she opened the front door to put out the milk bottles, nor that he would spend the next few weeks being prodded and pinched by his cousin Dudley...He couldn't know that at this very moment, unicorns meeting all over the country were holding up their glasses with magic and saying in hushed voice: "To Hairy Trotter- the colt who lived!"


	2. The Disappearing Glass

Nearly 120 moons had passed since the Dursleys had woken up to find their nephew on the front step, but Privet Drive had hardly changed at all. Celestia raised the sun on the same tidy front gardens and lit up the brass number four on the Dursleys' front door; it crept into the living room, which was almost exactly the same as it had been on the night when Mr. Dursley had heard that fateful news report about the owls. Only the photographs on the mantelpiece really showed how much time had passed. 120 moons ago, there had been lots of pictures of what looked like a large light brown beach ball with wings wearing different colored bonnets- but now Dudley Dursley was no longer a foal, and now the photographs showed a large blond colt flying for the first time, on a carousel, playing a board game with his father, being hugged and kissed by his mother, and with his cutie mark, a punching bag. The room held no sign at all that another colt lived in the house, too.

Yes, Hairy Trotter was still there, asleep at the moment, but not for long. His Aunt Petunia was awake and it was her shrill voice that made the first noise of the day.

"Up! Get up! Now!"

Hairy woke with a start. His aunt rapped on the door again with her hoof.

"Up!" She screeched. Hairy heard her walking toward the kitchen and then the sound of the frying pan being put on the stove. He rolled onto his back and tried to remember the dream he had been having. It had been a good one. There had been a flying single ground chariot in it. He had a funny feeling he'd had the same dream before.

His aunt was back outside the door.

"Are you up yet?" She demanded.

"Nearly," said Hairy.

"Well, get a move on, I want you to look after the eggs. And don't you dare let them burn, I want everything perfect on Duddy's birthday."

Hairy groaned.

"What did you say?" His aunt snapped through the door.

"Nothing, nothing..."

Dudley's birthday- how could he have forgotten. Hairy got slowly out of bed and glanced at his cutie mark- two unicorn horns in battle. 72 moons ago he had gotten his cutie mark, and still hadn't figured out what it meant. He pulled a spider out of his mane. Hairy was used to spiders, because the cupboard under the stairs was full of them, and that was where he slept.

When he was fully up he went down the hall into the kitchen. The table was almost hidden beneath all Dudley's birthday presents. It looked as though Dudley had gotten the new game he wanted, not to mention the second radio and the racing horseshoes. Exactly why Dudley wanted racing horseshoes was a mystery to Hairy, as Dudley was very fat and hated exercise- unless of course it was punching somepony, which was why his cutie mark was a punching bag. Dudley's favorite punching bag was Hairy, but he couldn't often catch him. Hairy didn't look it, but he was very fast.

Perhaps it had something to do with living in a dark cupboard, but Hairy had always been small and skinny for his age. Hairy had a thin face, knobbly knees, a black mane and tail, golden fur, and bright green eyes. Hairy was also a unicorn, but he didn't know much magic. He wore round glasses held together with a lot of tape because of all the times Dudley had punched him on the nose. The only thing Hairy liked about his own appearance was a very thin scar on his forehead that was shaped like a bolt of lightning. He had had it as long as he could remember, and the first question he could ever remember asking his Aunt Petunia was how he had gotten it.

"In the air chariot crash when your parents died," she had said, "And don _'t ask questions."_

 _Don't ask q_ uestions- that was the first rule for a quiet life with the Dursleys.

Uncle Vernon entered the kitchen as Hairy was flipping over the pancakes.

"Comb your mane!" He barked, by way of a morning greeting.

About once a week, Uncle Vernon looked over the top of his newspaper and shouted that Hairy needed a mane cut. Hairy must have had more mane cuts than the rest of the colts in his class put together, but it made no difference, his mane simply grew that way- all over the place.

Hairy was frying eggs by the time Dudley arrived in the kitchen with his mother. Dudley looked a lot like Uncle Vernon. He had a large brown fur-covered face, not much neck, small, watery blue eyes, large wings, and a think blond mane that lay smoothly on his think, fat head. Aunt Petunia often said that Dudley looked like a baby angel- Hairy often said that Dudley looked like a flying pig in a wig.

Hairy put the plates of egg and pancake on the table, which was difficult as there wasn't much room. Dudley, meanwhile, was counting his presents. His face fell.

"Thirty-six," he said, looking up at his mother and father, "That's two less than last year."

"Darling, you haven't counted Auntie Marge's presents, see, it's here under this big one from Mommy and Daddy."

"All right, thirty-seven then," said Dudley, going red under his fur. Hairy, who could see a huge Dudley tantrum coming on, began wolfing down his pancakes as fast as possible in case Dudley turned the table over.

Aunt Petunia obviously scented danger, too, because she said quickly, "And we'll buy you _ano_ ther two presents while we're out today. How's that, _pop_ kin? Two more presents. Is that all right?"

Dudley thought for a moment. It looked like hard work. Finally he said slowly, "So I'll have thirty...thirty..."

"Thirty-nine, sweetums," said Aunt Petunia.

"Oh." Dudley sat down heavily on a cushion and grabbed the nearest parcel, "All right then."

Uncle Vernon chuckled.

"Little tyke wants his money's worth, just like his father. 'Atta colt, Dudley!" He ruffled Dudley's mane with his hoof.

At that moment a letter appeared in mid-air in front of Aunt Petunia who opened it to read. Letters only came like this if they were urgent. Hairy and Uncle Vernon watched Dudley unwrap the racing horseshoes, a video camera, a kite, sixteen new board games, and a movie protector. He was ripping the paper off a gold wristwatch when Aunt Petunia came back from writing a letter to answer the first looking both angry and worried.

"Bad news, Vernon," she said, "Mrs. Figg's broken her hoof. She can't take him." She jerked her head in Hairy's direction.

Dudley's mouth fell open in horror, but Hairy's heart gave a leap. Every year on Dudley's birthday, his parents took him and a friend out for the day, to adventure parks, hayburger restaurants, or the movies. Every year, Hairy was left behind with Mrs. Figg, a mad old mare who lived two streets away. Hairy hated it there. The whole house smelled of cabbage and Mrs. Figg made him look at photographs of all the cats she'd ever owned.

"Now what?" Said Aunt Petunia, looking furiously at Hairy as though he'd planned this. Hairy knew he ought to feel sorry that Mrs. Figg had broken her hoof, but it wasn't easy when he reminded himself it would be a whole year before he had to look at Tibbles, Snowy, Mr. Paws, and Tufty again.

"We could write Marge," Uncle Vernon suggested.

"Don't be silly, Vernon, she hates the colt."

The Dursleys often spoke about Hairy like this, as though he wasn't there- or rather, as though he was something very nasty that couldn't understand them, like a slug.

"What about what's-her-name, your friend- Yvonne?"

"On vacation in Majorca," snapped Aunt Petuina.

"You could just leave me here," Hairy put in hopefully. (He'd be able to listen to what he wanted on the radio for a change and maybe even have a go with Dudley's games)

Aunt Petunia looked as though she'd just swallowed a lemon.

"And come back and find the house In ruins?" She snarled.

"I won't blow up the house," said Hairy, but they weren't listening.

"I suppose he could take him to the zoo," said Aunt Petunia slowly, "...and leave him in the chariot..."

"That chariot's new, he's not sitting in it alone..."

Dudley began to cry loudly. In fact, he wasn't really crying- it had been moons since he really cried- but he knew that if he screwed up his face and wailed, his mother would give him anything he wanted.

"Dinky Duddydums, don't cry, Mummy won't let him ruin your special day!" She cried, flinging her arms around him.

"I...don't...want...him...t-t-to come!" Dudley yelled between huge, pretend sobs, "He always sp-spoils everything!" He shot Hairy a nasty grin through the gap in his mother's hooves.

Just then, the doorbell rang- and a moment later, Dudley's best friend, Peirs Polkiss, walked in with his mother. Piers was a scrawny Earth pony colt with a face like a rat, a brown mane, and gray fur. He was usually the one who held pony's hooves behind their backs while Dudley hit then, which was why his cutie mark was a straitjacket. Dudley stopped pretending to cry at once.

Half an hour later, Hairy, who couldn't believe his luck, was sitting in the back of the Dursley's chariot with Piers and Dudley, on the way to the zoo for the first time in his life. His aunt and uncle hadn't been able to think of anything else to do with him, but before they'd left, Uncle Vernon had taken Hairy aside.

"I'm warning you," he had said, putting his large brown fur covered face up close to Hairy's, "I'm warning you now, colt- any funny business, anything at all- and you'll be in that cupboard from now until Heart's Warming Eve."

"I'm not going to do anything," said Hairy, "honestly..."

But Uncle Vernon didn't believe him. No pony ever did.

The problem was, strange things often happened around Hairy and it was just no good telling the Dursleys he didn't make them happen.

Once, Aunt Petuinia, tired of Hairy coming back from the barber's looking as though he hadn't been at all, had taken a pair of kitchen scissors and cut his mane so short he was almost bald except for his bangs, which she left 'to hide that horrible scar.' Dudley had laughed himself silly at Hairy, who spent a sleepless night imagining school the next day, where he was already laughed at for his taped glasses and how he didn't know what his cutie mark meant. Next morning, however, he had gotten up to find exactly as it had been before Aunt Petunia had sheared it off. He had been given a week in his cupboard for this, even though he had tried to explain _that he_ couldn't explain how it had grown back so quickly.

Another time, Aunt Petunia had been trying to force him into a revolting old sweater of Dudley's. (Brown with orange puff balls) The harder she tried to pull it over his head, the smaller it seemed to become, until finally it might have fitting a hoof puppet, but certainly wouldn't fit Hairy. Aunt Petunia had decided it must have shrunk in the wash and, to his great relief, Hairy wasn't finished.

On the other hoof, he'd gotten into terrible trouble for being found on the roof of the school kitchens. Dudley's gang had been chasing him as usual when, as much to Hairy's surprise as anypony else's, there he was sitting on the chimney. The Dursleys had received a very angry letter from Hairy's headmistress telling them Hairy had been climbing school buildings. But all he'd tried to do (as he shouted at Uncle Vernon through the locked door of his cupboard) was jump behind the big trash cans outside the kitchen doors. Hairy supposed that the wind must have caught him in mid-jump.

But today, nothing was going to go wrong. It was even worth being with Dudley and Piers to be spending the day somewhere that wasn't school, his cupboard, or Mrs. Figg's cabbage-smelling living room.

While he drove, Uncle Vernon complained to Aunt Petunia. He liked to complain about things: ponies at work, Hairy, the council, Hairy, the bank, and Hairy were just a few of his favorite subjects. This morning, it was single chariots.

"...clattering along like maniacs, the young hoodlums," he said, as a single chariot overtook them.

"I had a dream about a single ground chariot," said Hairy, remembering suddenly, "It was flying."

Uncle Vernon nearly crashed into the chariot in front. He turned right around in the harness and yelled at Hairy, his face like a gigantic furry beat with a mustache: "GROUND CHARIOTS DON'T FLY!"

Dudley and Piers sniggered.

"I know they don't," said Hairy, "It was only a dream."

But he wished he hadn't said anything. If there was one thing the Dursleys hated even more than his asking questions, it was his talking about anything acting in a way it shouldn't, no matter if it was in a dream or a movie- they seemed to think he might get dangerous ideas.

The Pegasi had planned a very sunny Saturday and the zoo was crowded with families. The Dursleys bought Dudley and Piers large chocolate ice creams at the entrance and then, because the smiling mare in the van had asked Hairy what he wanted before they could hurry him away, they bought him a cheap lemon ice pop. It wasn't bad, either, Hairy thought, licking it as they watched a gorilla scratching its head who looked remarkably like Dudley, except that it wasn't blond.

Hairy had the best morning he'd had in a along time. He was careful to walk a little way apart from the Dursleys so that Dudley and Piers, who were starting to get bored with the animals by lunchtime, wouldn't fall back on their favorite hobby of hitting him. They ate in the zoo restaurants, and when Dudley had a tantrum because his knickerbocker glory didn't have enough ice cream on top, Uncle Vernon bought him another one and Hairy was allowed to finish the first.

Hairy felt, afterward, that he should have known it was all too good to last.

After lunch they went to the reptile house. It was cool and dark in there, with lit windows all along the walls. Behind the glass, all sorts of lizards and snakes were crawling and slithering over bits of wood and stone. Dudley and Piers wanted to huge, poisonous cobras and think, man-crushing pythons. Dudley quickly found the largest snake in the place. It could have wrapped its body twice around Uncle Vernon's chariot and crushed it into a trash can- but at the moment it didn't look in the mood. In fact, it was fast asleep.

Dudley stood with his muzzle pressed against the glass, staring at the glistering brown coils.

"Make it move," he whined at his father. Uncle Vernon tapped on the glass, but the snake didn't budge.

"Do it again," Dudley ordered. Uncle Vernon rapped the glass smartly with his hoof, but the snake just snoozed on.

"This is boring," Dudley moaned. He shuffled away.

Hairy moved in front of the tank and looked intently at the snake. He wouldn't have been surprised if it had died of boredom itself- no company except stupid ponies drumming their hooves on the glass trying to disturb it all day long. It was worse than having a cupboard as a bedroom, where the only visitor was Aunt Petunia hammering on the door to wake you up; at least he got to visit the rest of the house.

The snake suddenly opened its beady eyes. Slowly, very slowly, it raised its head until its eyes were on a level with Hairy's.

 _It winke_ d.

Hairy stared. Then he looked quickly around to see if anypony was watching. He looked back at the snake and winked, too.

The snake jerked its head toward Uncle Vernon and Dudley, then raised its eyes to the ceiling. It gave Hairy a look that said quite plainly:

 _"I get that all the time._ "

"I know," Hairy murmured through the glass, though he wasn't sure the snake could hear him, "It must be really annoying."

The snake nodded vigorously.

"Where do you come from, anyway?" Hairy asked.

The snake jabbed its tail at a little sign next to the glass. Hairy peered at it.

Boa Constrictor, Brazil.

"Was it nice there?"

The boa constrictor jabbed its tail at the sign again and Hairy read on: This specimen was bred in the zoo. "Oh, I see- so you've never been to Brazil?"

As the snake shook its head, a deafening shout behind Hairy made both of them jump. "DUDLEY! MR. DURSLEY! COME AND LOOK AT THIS SNAKE! YOU WON'T _BELIEV_ E WHAT IT'S DOING!"

Dudley came waddling toward them as fast as he could.

"Out of the way, you," he said, punching Hairy in the ribs with his hoof. Caught by surprise, Hairy fell hard on the concrete floor. What came next happened so fast no pony saw how it happened- one second, Piers and Dudley were leaning right up close to the glass, their hooves pressed up against it, the next, they had leapt back with howls of horror.

Hairy sat up and gasped; the glass front of the boa constrictor's tank had vanished. The great snake was uncoiling itself rapidly, slithering out onto the floor. Ponies throughout the reptile house screamed and started galloping for the exits.

As the snake slid swiftly past him, Hairy could have sworn a low, hissing voice said, "Brazil, here I come...Thanksss, amigo."

The keeper of the reptile house was in shock.

"But the glass," he kept saying, "where did the glass go?"

The zoo director himself made Aunt Petuina a cup of strong, sweet tea while he apologized over and over again. Piers and Dudley could only gibber. As far as Hairy had seen, the snake hadn't done anything except snap playfully at their heels as it passed, but by the time they were all back in Uncle Vernon's chariot, Dudley was telling them how it had nearly bitten off his leg, while Piers was swearing it had tried to squeeze him to death. But worst of all, for Hairy at least, was Piers calming down enough to say, "Hairy was talking to it, weren't you, Hairy?"

Uncle Vernon waiting until Piers was safely out of the house before starting on Hairy. He was so angry he could hardly speak. He managed to say, "Go- cupboard- stay- no meals," before he collapsed into a chair, and Aunt Petunia had to gallop and get him a large brandy.

Hairy lay in his dark cupboard much later, wishing he had a watch. He didn't know what time it was and he couldn't be sure the Dursleys were asleep yet. Until they were, he couldn't risk sneaking to the kitchen for some food.

He'd lived with the Dursleys almost 120 moons, 120 miserable moons, as long as he could remember, ever since he'd been a foal and his parents had died in that chariot crash. He couldn't remember being in the chariot when his parents had died. Sometimes, when he strained his memory during long hours in his cupboard, he came up with a strange vision: a blinding flash of green light and a burning pain on his forehead. This, he supposed, was the crash, though he couldn't imagine where all the green light cane from. He couldn't remember his parents at all. His aunt and uncle never spoke about then, and of course he was forbidden to ask questions. There were no photographs of them in the house.

When he had been younger, Hairy had dreamed and dreamed of some unknown relation coming to take him away, but it had never happened; the Dursleys were his only family. Yet sometimes he thought (or maybe hoped) that strangers in the street seemed to know him. Very strange strangers they were, too. A tiny stallion in a violet top hat had bowed to him once while out shopping with Aunt Petunia and Dudley. After asking Hairy furiously if he knew the stallion, Aunt Petunia had rushed them out of the shop without buying anything. A wild-looking old mare with green fur had waved merrily at him once on a bus. A bald stallion with purple fur had actually shaken his hoof in the street the other day and then walked away without a word. All of them were unicorns, and had their flanks covered, as though they didn't want anypony seeing their cutie marks. The weirdest thing about all these ponies was the way they seemed to vanish the second Hairy tried to get a closer look.

At school, Hairy had no pony. Everypony knew that Dudley's gang hated that odd Hairy Potter in his broken glasses and odd cutie mark, and no pony liked to disagree with Dudley's gang.


	3. The Letters From Nopony

The escape of the Brazilian Boa Constrictor earned Hairy his longest-ever punishment. By the time he was allowed out of his cupboard again, the summer holidays had started and Dudley had already broken his new video camera, crashed his kite, and, first time out with his racing horseshoes, knocked down old Mrs. Figg as she crossed Privet Drive on her crutches.

Hairy was glad school was over, but there was no escaping Dudley's gang, who visited the house every single day. Piers, Dennis, Malcolm, and Gordon were all big and stupid, but as Dudley was the biggest and stupidest of the lot, he was the leader. The rest of them were all quite happy to join in Dudley's favorite sport: Hairy Hunting.

This was why Hairy spent as much time as possible out of the house, wandering around and thinking about the end of the holidays, where he could see a tiny ray of hope. When September came he would be going off to secondary school and, for the first time in his life, he wouldn't be with Dudley. Dudley had been accepted at Uncle Vernon's old private school, Smeltings. Piers Polkiss was going there too. Hairy, on the other hoof, was going to Stonewall High, the local public school. Dudley thought this was very funny.

They stuff ponies' heads down the toilet the first day at Stonewall," he told Hairy, "Want to come upstairs and practice?"

"No, thanks," said Hairy, "The poor toilet's never had anything as horrible as your head down it- it might be sick." Then he ran, before Dudley could work out what he'd said.

One day in July, Aunt Petunia took Dudley to London to buy his Smeltings uniform, leaving Hairy at Mrs. Figg's. Mrs. Figg wasn't as bad as usual. It turned out she'd broken her hoof tripping over one of her cats, and she didn't seem quite as fond of them as before. She let Hairy listen to the radio and gave him a bit of chocolate cake that tasted as though she'd had it for several moons.

That evening, Dudley paraded around the living room for the family in his brand-new uniform. Smeltings' boys wore maroon tailcoats, orange knickerbockers, and flat straw hats called boaters. They also Carried knobbly sticks, used for hitting each other while the teachers weren't looking. This was supposed to be good training for later life.

As he looked at Dudley in his new knickerbockers, Unlce Vernon said gruffly that it was the proudest moment of his life. Aunt Petunia burst into tears and said she couldn't believe it was her Ickle Dudleykins, he looked so handsome and grown-up. Hairy didn't trust himself to speak. He thought two of his ribs might already have cracked from trying not to laugh.

There was a horrible smell in the kitchen the next morning when Hairy went in for breakfast. It seemed to be coming from a large metal tub in the sink. He went to have a look. The tub was full of what looked like dirty rags swimming in gray water.

"What's this?" He asked Aunt Petunia. Her lips tightened as they always did if he dared to ask a question.

"Your new school uniform," she said.

Hairy looked in the bowl again.

"Oh," he said, "I didn't realize it had to be so wet."

"Don't be stupid," snapped Aunt Petunia, "I'm dyeing some of Dudley's old things gray for you. It'll look just like everypony else's when I've finished."

Hairy seriously doubted this, but thought it best not to argue. He sat down at the table and tried not to think about how he was going to look on his first day at Stonewall High- like he was wearing bit of old elephant skin, probably.

Dudley and Uncle Vernon came in, both with wrinkled muzzles because of the smell from Hairy's new uniform. Uncle Vernon opened his newspaper as usual and Dudley banged his Smelting stick, which he carried everywhere is his mouth, on the table.

They heard the click of the mail slot and flop of letters on the doormat.

"Get the mail, Dudley," said Uncle Vernon from behind his paper.

"Make Hairy get it."

"Get the mail, Hairy."

"Make Dudley get it."

"Poke him with your Smelting stick, Dudley."

Hairy dodged the Smelting stick and went to get the mail. Three things lay on the doormat: a postcard from Uncle Vernon's sister Marge, who was vacationing on the Isle of Wight, a brown envelope that looked like a bill, and- _a letter for Hairy_.

Hairy picked it up and stared at it, his heart twanging like a giant elastic band. No pony, ever, in his whole life, had written to him. Who would? He had no friends, no other relatives- he didn't belong to the library, so he'd never even got rude notes asking for books back. Yet here it was, a letter, addressed so plainly there could be no mistake:

 **Mr. H. Trotter**

 **The Cupboard Under the Stairs**

 **4 Privet Drive**

 **Little Whinging**

 **Surrey**

The envelope was thick and heavy, made of yellowish parchment, and the address was written in emerald-green ink. There was no stamp.

Turning the envelope over, his hoof trembling, Hairy saw a purple was seal bearing a coat of arms; a lion, an eagle, a badger, and a snake surrounding a large letter _H_.

"Hurry up, colt!" Shouted Uncle Vernon from the kitchen, "What are you doing, checking for letter bombs?" He chuckled at his own joke.

Hairy went back to the kitchen, still staring at his letter. He handed Uncle Vernon the bill and the postcard, sat down, and slowly began to open the yellow envelope.

Uncle Vernon ripped open the bill, snorted in disgust, and flipped over the postcard.

"Marge's ill," he informed Aunt Petunia, "Ate a funny whelk..."

"Dad!" Said Dudley suddenly, "Dad, Hairy's got something!"

Hairy was on the point of unfolding his letter, which was written on the same heavy parchment as the envelope, when it was jerked sharply out of his hoof by Uncle Vernon.

"That's _mine_!" Said Hairy, trying to snatch it back.

"Who'd be writing to you?" Sneered Uncle Vernon, shaking the letter open with one hoof and glancing at it. His face went from red to green faster than a set of traffic lights. And it didn't stop there. Within seconds it was the grayish white of old porridge.

"P-P-Petunia!" He gasped.

Dudley tried to grab the letter to read it, but Uncle Vernon held it high out of his reach, and, because Dudley was so fat, he couldn't fly. Aunt Petunia took it curiously and read the first line. For a moment it looked as though she might faint. She clutched her throat and made a choking noise.

"Vernon! Oh my goodness- Vernon!"

They stared at each other, seeming to have forgotten that Hairy and Dudley were still in the room. Dudley wasn't used to being ignored. He gave his father a sharp tap on the head with his Smelting stick.

"I want to read that letter," he said loudly.

" _I_ want to read it," said Hairy furiously, "as it's _mine_."

"Get out, both of you," croaked Uncle Vernon, stuffing the letter back inside its envelope.

Hairy didn't move.

"I WANT MY LETTER!" He shouted.

"Let _me_ see it!" Demanded Dudley.

"OUT!" Roared Uncle Vernon, and he took both Hairy and Dudley by the scruffs of their manes and threw them into the hall, slamming the kitchen door behind them. Hairy and Dudley promptly has a furious but silent fight over who would listen at the keyhole; Dudley won, so Hairy, his glasses dangling from one ear, lay flat on his stomach to listen at the crack between door and floor.

"Vernon," Aunt Petunia was saying in a quivering voice, "look at the address- how could they possibly know where he sleeps? You don't think they're watching the house?"

"Watching- spying- might be following us," muttered Uncle Vernon wildly.

"But what should we do, Vernon? Should we write back? Tell them we don't want-"

Hairy could see Uncle Vernon's shiny brown hooves pacing up and down the kitchen.

"No," he said finally, "No, we'll ignore it. If they don't get an answer...Yes, that's best...we won't do anything..."

"But-"

"I'm not having one in the house, Petunia! Didn't we swear when we took him in we'd stamp out that dangerous nonsense?"

That evening when he got back from work, Uncle Vernon did something he'd never done before; he visited Hairy in his cupboard.

"Where's my letter?" Said Hairy, the moment Uncle Vernon had squeezed through the door, "Who's writing to me?"

"No pony. It was addressed to you by mistake," said Uncle Vernon shortly, "I haves burned it."

"It was _not_ a mistake," said Hairy angrily, "it had my cupboard on it."

"SILENCE!" Yelled Uncle Vernon, and a couple of spiders fell from the ceiling. He took a few deep breaths and then forced his face into a smile, which looked quite painful.

"Er- yes, Hairy- about this cupboard. Your aunt and I have been thinking...you're really getting a bit big for it...we think it might be nice if you moved into Dudley's second bedroom."

"Why?" Said Hairy.

"Don't ask questions!" Snapped his uncle, "Take this stuff upstairs, now."

The Dursleys' house had four bedrooms: one for Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia, one for visitors, (usually Uncle Vernon's sister, Marge) one where Dudley slept, and one where Dudley kept all the toys and things that wouldn't fit into his first bedroom. It only took Hairy one trip upstairs to move everything he owned from the cupboard to this room. He sat down on the bed and stared around him. Nearly everything in here was broken. The moon-old video camera was lying on top of a small, working tank Dudley had once driven over the next door neigh-bor's dog; in the corner was Dudley's first-ever radio, which he'd put his hoof through when his favorite program had been canceled; there was large birdcage, which had once held a parrot that Dudley had swapped at school for a real air rifle, which was up on a shelf with the end all bent because Dudley had sat on it. Other shelves were full of books. They were the only things in the room that looked as though they'd never been touched.

From downstairs came the sound of Dudley bawling at his mother, "I don't _want_ him in there...I _need_ that room...make him get out..."

Hairy sighed and stretched out on the bed. Yesterday he'd have given anything to be up here. Today he'd rather be in his cupboard with that letter than up here without it.

Next morning at breakfast, everypony was rather quiet. Dudley was in shock. He'd screamed, whacked his father with his Smelting stick, been sick on purpose, kicked his mother, and thrown his tortoise through the greenhouse roof, and be still didn't have his room back. Hairy was thinking about this time yesterday and bitterly wishing he'd opened the letter in the hall. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia kept looking at each other darkly.

When the mail arrived, Uncle Vernon, who seemed to be trying to be nice to Hairy, made Dudley go and get it. They heard him banging things with his Smelting stick all the way down the hall. Then he shouted, "There's another one! 'Mr. H. Trotter, The Smallest Bedroom, 4 Privet Drive-"

With a strangled cry, Uncle Vernon leapt from his seat and galloped down the hall, Hair u right behind him. Uncle Vernon had to wrestle Dudley to the ground to get the letter from him, which was made difficult by the fact that Hairy had grabbed Uncle Vernon around the neck from behind. After a minute of confused fighting, in which everypony got hit a lot by the Smelting stick, Uncle Vernon straightened up, gasping for breath, with Hairy's letter clutched in his hoof.

"Go to your cupboard- I mean, your bedroom," he wheezed at Hairy, "Dudley- go- just go."

Hairy walked round and round his new room. Somepony knew he had moved out of his cupboard and they seemed to know he hasn't received his first letter. Surely that meant they'd try again? And this time he'd make sure they didn't fail. He had a plan.

The repaired alarm clock rang at six o'clock the next morning. Hairy turned it off quickly and got up silently. He mustn't wake the Dursleys. He stole downstairs without turning on any of the lights.

He was going to wait for the postpony on the corner of Privet Drive and get the letters for number four first. His heart hammered as he crept across the dark hall toward the front door-

"AAAAARRRGH!"

Hairy leapt into the air; he'd trodden on something big and squashy on the doormat- something _alive_!

Lights clicked on upstairs and to his horror Hairy realized that the big, squashy something had been his uncle's face. Uncle Vernon had been lying at the foot of the front door in a sleeping bag, clearly making sure that Hairy didn't do exactly what he'd been trying to do. He shouted at Hairy for about half an hour and then told him to go and make a cup of tea. Hairy shuffled miserably off into the kitchen and by the time he got back, the mail had arrived, right onto the table in front of Uncle Vernon. Hairy could see three letters addressed in green ink.

"I want-" he began, but Uncle Vernon was tearing the letters into pieces before his eyes.

Uncle Vernon didn't go to work that day. He stayed at home and nailed up the mail slot.

"See," he explained to Aunt Petunia through a mouthful of hammer, "if they can't _deliver_ them they'll just give up."

"I'm not sure that'll work, Vernon."

"Oh, these pony's minds work in strange ways, Petunia, they're not like you and me," said Uncle Vernon, trying to knock in a nail with the piece of fruitcake Aunt Petunia had just brought him.

On Friday, no less than twelve letters arrived for Hairy. As they couldn't go through the mail slot they had been pushed under the door, slotted through the sides, and a few even forced through the small window in the downstairs bathroom.

Uncle Vernon stayed at home again. After burning all the letters, he got out a hammer and nails and boarded up the cracks around the front and back doors so no pony could go out. He hummed 'Tiptoe Through the Tulips' as he worked, and jumped at small noises.

On Saturday, things began to get out of hoof. Twenty-four letters to Hairy found their way into the house, rolled up and hidden inside each of the two dozen eggs that their very confused milkpony had handed Aunt Petunia through the living room window. While Uncle Vernon wrote furious letters to the post office and the dairy trying to find somepony to complain to, Aunt Petunia shredded the letters in her food processor.

"Who in Equestria wants to talk to _you_ this badly?" Dudley asked Hairy in amazement.

On Sunday morning, Uncle Vernon sat down at the breakfast table looking tired and rather ill, but happy.

"No post on Sunday," he reminded them cheerfully as he spread marmalade on his newspapers, "no darn letters today-"

Something came whizzing down the kitchen chimney as he spoke and caught him sharply on the back of the head. Next moment, thirty or forty letters came pelting out of the fireplace like bullets. The Dursleys ducked, but Hairy leapt into the air trying to catch one-

"Out! OUT!"

Uncle Vernon seized Hairy around the waist and threw him into the hall. When Aunt Petunia and Dudley had run out, Dudley with his wings over his face, Uncle Vernon slammed the door shut. They could hear the letters still streaming into the room, bouncing off the walls and floor.

"That does it," said Uncle Vernon, trying to speak calmly but pulling great tuffs out of his mustache at the same time, "I want you all back here in five minutes ready to leave. We're going away. Just pack some clothes. No arguments!"

He looked so dangerous with half his mustache missing that no pony dared argue. Ten minutes later they had wrenched their way through the boarded-up doors and were in the chariot, speeding toward the main road. Dudley was sniffling in the back seat; his father had hit him round the head for holding them up while he tried to pack his radio, CDs, and board games in his sports bag.

They rode. And they rode. Even Aunt Petunia didn't dare ask where they were going. Every now and then Uncle Vernon would take a sharp turn and pull the chariot in the opposite direction for a while.

"Shake 'em off...shake 'em off," he would mutter whenever he did this.

They didn't stop to eat or drive all day. By the time Luna raised the moon, Dudley was howling. He'd never had such a bad day in his life. He was hungry, he'd missed five radio stories he'd wanted to hear, and he'd never gone so long without playing one of his board games.

Uncle Vernon stopped at last outside a gloomy-looking hotel on the outside of a big city. Dudley and Hairy shared a room with twin beds and damp, musty sheets. Dudley snored but Hairy stayed awake, sitting next to the window sill, staring down at the lantern lights of passing chariots and wondering...

They ate stale cornflakes and cold tinned tomatoes on toast for breakfast the next day. They had just finished when the owner of the hotel, who was a Pegasus, came over to their table.

"'Scuse me, but is one of you Mr. H. Trotter? Only I got about an 'undred of these at the front desk."

She held up a letter so they could read the green ink address:

 **Mr. H. Trotter**

 **Room 17**

 **Railview Hotel**

 **Cokeworth**

Hairy made a grab for the letter but Uncle Vernon knocked his hoof out of the way. The mare stared.

"I'll take them," said Uncle Vernon, standing up quickly and following her from the dining room.

"Wouldn't it be better just to go home, dear?" Aunt Petunia suggested timidly, hours later, but Uncle Vernon didn't seem to hear her. Exactly what he was looking for, none of them knew. He drove them into the middle of a forest, looking around, shook his head, and off they went again. The same thing happened in the middle of a plowed field, halfway across a suspension bridge, and at the top of a multilevel parking garage.

"Daddy's gone mad, hasn't he?" Dudley asked Aunt Petunia dully late that afternoon. Uncle Vernon had parked at the coast, left them all inside the chariot, and disappeared.

It started to rain. Great drops beat on the roof of the chariot. Dudley sniveled.

"It's Monday," he told his mother, "The Great Humberto's on tonight. I want to stay somewhere with a _radio_."

Monday. This reminded Hairy of something. If it _was_ Monday- and you could usually count on Dudley to know the days of the week, because of the radio- then tomorrow, Tuesday, was Hairy's eleventh birthday. If course, his birthdays were never actually fun- last year, the Dursleys had given him a coat hanger and I pair of Uncle Vernon's old socks. Still, you weren't eleven everyday.

Uncle Vernon was back and he was smiling. He was also carrying a long, thin package and didn't answer Aunt Petunia when she asked what he'd bought.

"Found the perfect place!" He said, "Come on! Everypony out!"

It was very cold outside the chariot. Uncle Vernon was pointing at what looked like a large rock way out at sea. Perched on top of the rock was the most miserable little shack you could imagine. One thing was certain, there was no radio in there.

"Pegasi planned a storm for tonight!" Said Uncle Vernon gleefully, clapping with his hooves, "And this gentlecolt's kindly agreed to led us his boat!"

A toothless old stallion came ambling up to them, pointing, with a rather wicked grin, at an old rowboat bobbing in the iron-gray water below them.

"I've already got us some rations," said Uncle Vernon, "so all aboard!"

It was freezing in the boat. Icy sea spray and rain crept down their fur-soaked necks and a chilly wind whipped their faces. After what seemed like hours they reached the rock, where Uncle Vernon, slipping and sliding, led the way to the broken-down house.

The inside was horrible; it smelled strongly of seaweed, the wind whistled through the gaps in the wooden walls, and the fireplace was damp and empty. There were only two rooms.

Uncle Vernon's rations turned out to be a bag of chips each and four bananas. He tried to start a fire but the empty chip bags just smoked and shriveled up.

"Could do with some of those letters now, eh?" He said cheerfully.

He was in a very good mood. Obviously he thought nopony stood a chance of reaching them here in a storm to deliver mail. Hairy privately agreed, though the thought didn't cheer him up at all.

As night fell, the promised storm blew up around them. Spray from the high waves splattered the walls of the hut and a fierce wind,rattled the filthy windows. Aunt Petunia found a few moldy blankets in the second room and made up a bed for Dudley on the moth-eaten sofa. She and Uncle Vernon went off to the lumpy bed next door, and Hairy was left to find the softest bit of floor he could and to curl up under the thinnest, most ragged blanket.

The storm raged more and more ferociously as the night went on. Hairy couldn't sleep. He shivered and turned over, trying to get comfortable, his stomach rumbling with hunger. Dudley's snores were drowned by the low rolls of thunder that started near midnight. The lighted dial of Dudley's watch, which was dangling over the edge of the sofa on his fat hoof, told Hairy he'd be eleven in ten minutes time. He lay watched his birthday tick nearer, wondering if the Dursley's would remember at all, wondering where the letter writer was now.

Five minutes to go. Hairy heard something creak outside. He hoped the roof wasn't going to fall in, although he might be warmer if it did. Four minutes to go. Maybe the house in Privet Drive would be so full of letters when they got back that he'd be able to steal one somehow.

Three minutes to go. Was that the sea, slapping hard on the rock like that? And (two minutes to go) what was that funny crunching noise? Was the rock crumbling into the sea?

One minute to go and he'd be eleven. Thirty seconds...twenty...ten...nine- maybe he'd wake Dudley up, just to annoy him- three...two...one...

BOOM.

The whole shack shivered and Hairy sat bolt upright, staring at the door. Somepony was outside, knocking to come in.


	4. Keeper of Keys

BOOM. They knocked again. Dudley jerked awake.

"Where's the cannon?" He said stupidly.

There was a crash behind them and Uncle Vernon came skidding into the room. He was holding a rifle in his mouth- now they knew what had been in the long, thin package he had brought with them.

"Who's there?" He shouted, "I want you- I'm hoofed!"

There was a pause. Then-

SMASH!

The door was hit with such force that it swung clean off its hinges and with a deafening crash landed flat on the floor.

A giant of a unicorn stallion was standing in the doorway. His dark green fur covered was almost completely hidden by a long, shaggy mane and a wild, tangled beard, but you could make out his eyes, glinting like black beetles under all the hair. His cutie mark appeared to be gardening tools.

The giant squeezed his way into the hut, stooping so that his head just brushed the ceiling. He bent down, picked up the door with one large hoof, and fitted it easily back into its frame. The noise of the storm outside dropped a little. He turned to look at them all.

"Couldn't make us a cup o' tea, could yeh? It's not been an easy journey..."

He strode over to the sofa where Dudley sat frozen with fear.

"Budge up, yeh great lump," said the stranger.

Dudley squeaked and ran to hide behind his mother, who was crouching, terrified, behind Uncle Vernon.

"An' here's Hairy!" Said the giant.

Hairy looked up into the fierce, wild, shadowy face and saw that the beetle eyes were crinkled in a smile.

"Las' time I saw you, you was only a baby," said the giant, "Yeh look a lot like yer dad, but yeh've got yer mom's eyes."

Uncle Vernon made a funny rasping noise.

"I demand that you leave at once, sir!" He said, "You are breaking and entering!"

"Ah, shut up, Dursley, yeh great prune," said the giant; he reached over the back of the sofa, jerked the gun out of Uncle Vernon's hooves, bent it into a knot as easily as if it had been made of rubber, and threw it into a corner of the room.

Uncle Vernon made another funny noise, like a mouse being trodden on.

"Anyway- Hairy," said the giant, turning his back on the Dursleys, "a very happy birthday to yeh. Got summat fer yeh here- I mighta Sat on it at some point, but it'll taste all right."

From inside his large brown satchel, he pulled a slightly squashed box. Hairy opened it with trembling hooves. Inside was a large, sticky chocolate cake with _Happy Birthday Hairy_ written on it in green icing.

Hairy looked up at the giant. He meant to say thank you, but the words got lost on the way to his mouth, and what he said instead was, "Who are you?"

The giant chuckled.

"True, I haven't introduced meself. Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Celestia's School."

He held out an enormous hoof and shook Hairy's whole leg.

"What about that tea then, eh?" He said, rubbing his hooves on the ground, "I'd not say no ter summat stronger if yeh've got it, mind."

His eyes fell on the empty grate with the shriveled chip bags in it and he snorted. He bent down in front of the fire place; they couldn't see what he was doing but when he drew back a second later, there was a roaring fire there. It filled the whole damp hut with flickering light and Hairy felt the warmth wash over him as though he'd sunk into a hot bath.

The giant sat back down on the sofa, which sagged under his weight, and began taking all sorts of things out of his satchel: a copper kettle, a squashy package of roasting carrots, a poker, a teapot, several chipped mugs, and a bottle of some amber liquid that he took a swig from before starting to make tea. Soon the hut was full of the sound and smell of sizzling carrots. Nopony said a thing while the giant was working, but as he slid the first six fat, dryish, slightly burnt carrots from the poker, Dudley fidgeted a little. Uncle Vernon said sharply, "Don't touch anything he gives you, Dudley."

The giant chuckled darkly.

"Yer great puddin' of a colt don' need fattenin' anymore, Dursley, don' worry."

He passed the carrots to Hairy, who was so hungry he had never tasted anything so wonderful, but he still couldn't take his eyes off the giant. Finally, as nopony seemed about to explain anything, he said, "I'm sorry, but I still don't really know who you are."

The giant took a gulp of tea and wiped his mouth with the back of his hoof.

"Call me Hagrid," he said, "everypony does. An' like I told yeh, I'm Keeper of Keys at Celestia's School- yeh'll know all about Celestia's School, o'course."

"Er- no," Hairy said, "I know who Celestia is, but not the school."

Hagrid looked shocked.

"Sorry," said Hairy quickly.

" _Sorry_?" Barked Hagrid, turning to stare at the Dursleys, who shrank back into the shadows, "It's them as should be sorry! I knew yeh weren't gettin' yer letters but I never thought yeh wouldn't even know abou' Celestia's School, fer cryin' out loud! Did yeh never wonder where yer parents learned it all?"

"All what?" Asked Hairy.

"ALL WHAT?" Hagrid thundered, "Now wait jus' one second!"

He had leapt to his hooves. In his anger he seemed to fill the whole hut. The Dursleys were cowering against the wall.

"Do you mean ter tell me," he growled at the Dursleys, "that this colt- this colt!- knows nothin' abou'- about ANYTHING?"

Hairy thought this was going a bit far. He had been to school, after all, and his marks weren't bad.

"I know _some_ things," he said, "I can, you know, do math and stuff."

But Hagrid simply waved his hoof and said, "About _our_ world, I mean. _Your_ world. _My_ world. _Yer parents' world."_

"What world?"

Hagrid looked he was about to explode.

"DURSLEY!" He boomed.

Uncle Vernon, Who had gone very pale under his fur, whispered something that sounded like, "Mimblewimble." Hagrid stared wildly at Hairy.

"But yeh must know about yer mom and dad," he said, "I mean, they're _famous_. Your _famous_."

"What? My- my mom and dad weren't famous, were they?"

"Yeh don' know...yeh don' know..." Hagrid ran his hoof through his mane, fixing Hairy with a bewildered stare.

"Yeh don' know what yeh _are_?" He said finally.

Uncle Vernon suddenly found his voice.

"Stop!" He commanded, "Stop right there, sir! I forbid you to tell the colt anything!"

A braver stallion than Vernon Dursley would have quailed under the furious look Hagrid gave him now; when Hagrid spoke, his every syllable tremble with rage.

"You never told him? Never told him what was in the letter Dumbledore left fer him? I was there! I saw Dumbledore leave it, Dursley! An' you've kept it from him all these years?"

"Kept _what_ from me?" Said Hairy eagerly.

"STOP! I FORBID YOU!" Yelled Uncle Vernon in panic.

Aunt Petunia gave a gasp of horror.

"Ah, go boil yer heads, both of yeh," said Hagrid.

"What?" Hairy asked, "I know I'm a unicorn, but..."

"Not jus' any unicorn," Hagrid said, "Yer a gifted unicorn, Hairy,"

There was silence inside the hut. Only the sea and the whistling wknd could be heard.

"I'm a _what_?" Gasped Hairy.

"A gifted unicorn, o' course," said Hagrid, sitting back down on the sofa, which groaned and sank even lower, "an' a thumpin' good'un, I'd say, once yeh've been trained up a bit. With a mum an' dad like yours, what else would yeh be? An' I reckon it's abou' time yeh read yer letter."

Hairy stretched out his hoof at last to take the yellowish envelope, addressed in emerald green to Mr. H. Trotter, The Floor, Hut-on-the-Rock, The Sea. The pulled out the letter and read:

CELETIA'S SCHOOL FOR

GIFTED UNICORNS

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

 _(Order of Marelin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,_

 _Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Gifted Unicorns)_

Dear Mr. Trotter,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Celestia's School for Gifted Unicorns. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.

Yours sincerely,

Princess Celestia

Questions exploded inside Hairy's head like fireworks and he couldn't decide which to ask first. After a few minutes he stammered, "What does it mean, they await my owl?"

"Gallopin' Gordons, that reminds me," said Hagrid, clapping a hoof to his forehead with enough force to knocked over a cart, and from yet another pocket inside his satchel he pulled an owl- a real, live, rather ruffled-looking owl- a long quill, and a roll of parchment. Holding the quill in his mouth he scribbled a note that Hairy could read upside down:

 **Dear Professor Dumbledore,**

 **Given Hairy his letter.**

 **Taking him to buy his things tomorrow.**

 **Weather's horrible. Hope you're well.**

 **Hagrid**

Hagrid rolled up the note, gave it to the owl, which clamped it in its beak, went to the door, and threw the owl out into the storm. Then he came back and sat down as though this was as normal as writing letters for the post office.

Hairy realized his mouth was open and closed it quickly.

"Where was I?" Said Hagrid, but at that moment, Uncle Vernon, still ashen-faced but looking very angry, moved into the firelight.

"He's not going," he said.

Hagrid grunted.

"I'd like ter see a great muggle like you stop him," he said.

"A what?" Said Hairy, interested.

"A muggle," said Hagrid, "it's what we call non-gifted unicorns, Pegasi and Earth Ponies like them. An' it's your bad luck you grew up in a family o'biggest muggles I ever laid eyes on."

"We swore when we took him in we'd put a stop to that rubbish," said Uncle Vernon, "swore Wed stamp it out of him! Gifted unicorn indeed!"

"You _knew_?" Said Hairy, "You _knew_ I'm a- a gifted unicorn?"

"Knew!" Shrieked Aunt Petunia suddenly, " _Knew_! Of course we knew! How could you not be, my dratted sister being what she was? Oh, she got a letter just like that and disappeared off to that- that _school_ \- and came home every vacation with her satchel full of frog spawn, turning teacups into rats. I was the only one who saw her for what she was- a freak! But for my mother and father, oh no, it was Lily this and Lily that, they were proud of having a gifted unicorn in the family!"

She stopped to draw a deep breath and then went ranting on. It seemed she had been waiting to say all this for years.

"Then she met that Trotter at school and they left and got married and had you, and of course I knew you'd be just the same, just as strange, just as- as- _abnormal_ \- and then, if you please, she went and got herself blown up and we got landed with you!"

Hairy had gone very white under his fur. As soon as he found his voice he said, "Blown up? You told me they died in an air chariot crash!"

"AIR CHARIOT CRASH!" Roared Hagrid, jumping up so angrily that the Dursleys scuttled back to their corner, "How could an air chariot crash kill Lily an' James Trotter? It's an outrage! A scandal! Hairy Trotter not knowin' his own story when every foal in our world knows his name!"

"But why? What happened?" Hairy asked urgently.

The anger faded from Hagrid's face. He looked suddenly anxious.

"I never expected this," he said in a low, worried voice, "I had no idea, when Dumbledore told me there might be trouble gettin' hold of yeh, how much yeh didn't know. Ah, Hairy, I don'know if I'm the right pony ter tell yeh- but somepony's gotta- yeh can't go off tee Celestia's School not knowin'."

He threw a dirty look at the Dursleys.

"Well, it's best yeh know as much as I can tell yeh- mind, I can't tell yeh everythin', it's a great myst'ry, parts of it..."

He sat down, stared into the fire for a few seconds, and then said, "It begins, I suppose, with- with a pony called- but it's incredible yeh don't know his name, everypony in our world knows-"

"Who?"

"Well- I don' like sayin' the name if I can help it. No pony does."

"Why not?"

"Gulpin' gargoyles, Hairy, ponies are still scared. Blimy, this is difficult. See, there was this stallion who went...bad. as bad as you could go. Worse. Worse than worse. His name was..."

Hagrid gulped, but no words came out.

"Could you write it down?" Hairy suggested.

"Nah- can't spell it. All right- _Voldemort_." Hagrid shuddered, "Don' make me say it again. Anyway, this- this stallion, about 20 years ago now, started lookin' fer followers. Got 'em, too- some were afraid, some just wanted a bit o'his power, 'cause he was gettin' himself power, all right. Dark days, Hairy. Didn't know who ter trust, didn't dare get friendly with strange unicorn stallions or mares...terrible things happened. He was takin' over. 'Course, some stood up to him- an' he killed 'em. Horribly. One o' the only safe places left was Celestia's School. Reckon Dumbledore's the only one You-Know-Who was afraid of. Didn't dare try takin' the school, not jus' then, anyway.

"Now, yer mum an' dad were as good a good mare an' stallion as I ever knew. Head colt an' filly at Celestia's School in their day! Suppose the myst'ry is why You-Know-Who never tried to get 'em on his side before...probably knew they were too close ter Dumbledore ter want anythin' ter do with the Dark Side.

"Maybe he thought he could persuade 'em...maybe he just wanted 'em outta the way. All anypony knows is, he turned up in the village where you was all living, on Nightmare Night ten years ago. You was just a year old. He came ter yer house an'- an'-"

Hagrid suddenly pulled out a very dirty, spotted handkerchief and blew his nose with a sound like a foghorn.

"Sorry," he said, "But it's that sad- knew yer mum an' dad, an' nicer ponies yeh couldn't find- anyway...

"You-Know-Who killed 'em. An' then- an' this is the real myst'ry of the thing- he tried to kill you, too. Wanted ter make a clean job of it, I suppose, of maybe he just liked killin' by then. But he couldn't do it. Never wondered how you got that mark on yer forehead? That was no ordinary cut. That's what yeh get when a powerful, level curse touches yeh- took care of yer mum an' dad an' yer house, even- but it didn't work on you, an' that's why yer famous, Hairy. No pony ever lived after he decided ter kill 'em, no pony except you, an' he'd killed some o' the best gifted unicorns of the age- the McKinnons, the Bones, the Prewetts- an' you was only a foal, an' you lived."

Something very painful was going on in Hairy's mind. As Hagrid's story came to a close, he saw again the blinding flash of green light, more clearly than he had ever remembered it before- an he remembered something else, for the first time in his life: a high, cold, cruel laugh.

Hagrid was watching him sadly.

"Took yeh from the ruined house myself, on Dumbledore's orders. Brought yeh ter this lot..."

"Load of old tosh," said Uncle Vernon. Hairy jumped; he had almost forgotten that the Dursleys were there. Uncle Vernon certainly seemed to have got back his courage. He was glaring at Hagrid.

"Now, you listen here, colt," he snarled, "I accept there's something strange about you, probably nothing a good beating wouldn't have cured- and as for all this about your parents, well, they were weirdos, no denying it, and Equestria's better off without them in my opinion- asked for all they got, getting mixed up with these gifted unicorn types- just what I expected, always knew they'd come to a sticky end-"

But at that moment, Hagrid leapt from the sofa and drew a battered pink umbrella from inside his satchel. Pointing this at Uncle Vernon like a sword, he said, "I'm warning you, Dursley- I'm warning you- one more word..."

In danger of being speared on the end of an umbrella by a bearded giant, Uncle Vernon's courage failed again; he flattened himself against the wall and fell silent.

"That's better," said Hagrid, breathing heavily and sitting back down on the sofa, which this time sagged right down to the floor.

Hairy, meanwhile, still had questions to ask, hundreds of them.

"But what happened to Vol-, sorry- I mean, You-Know-Who?"

"Good question, Hairy. Disappeared. Vanished. Same night he tried ter kill you. Makes yeh even more famous. That's the biggest myst'ry, see...he was gettin' more an' more powerful- why'd he go?

"Some say he died. Codswallop, in my opinion. Dunno if he had enough pony left in him to die. Some say he's still out there, bidin' his time, like, but I don' believe it. Ponies who was on his side came back ter ours. Some of 'em came outta kinda trances. Don' reckon they could've done if he was comin' back.

"Most of us reckon he's still out there somewhere but lost his powers. Too weak to carry on. 'Cause somethin' about you finished him, Hairy. There was somethin' goin' on that night he hadn't counted on- _I_ dunno what it was, no pony does- but somethin' about you stumped him, all right."

Hagrid looked at Hairy with warmth and respect blazing in his eyes, but Hairy, instead of feeling pleased and proud, felt quite sure there had been a horrible mistake. A gifted unicorn? Him? How could he possibly be? He could barely do a levitation spell. He'd spent his life being clouted by Dudley, and bullied by Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon; if he really was a gifted unicorn, why hadn't they been turned into warty toads every time they'd try to lock him in his cupboard? If he'd once defeated the greatest unicorn in Equestria, how come Dudley had always been able to kick him around like a football?

"Hagrid," he said quietly, "I think you must have made a mistake. I don't think I can be gifted."

To his surprise, Hagrid chuckled.

"Not gifted, eh? Never made things happen when you was scared or angry?"

Hairy looked into the fire. Now he came to think about it...every odd thing that had ever made his aunt and uncle furious with him had happened when he, Hairy, had been upset or angry...chased by Dudley's gang, he had somehow found himself out of their reach... dreading going to school with that ridiculous manecut, he'd managed to make it grow back...and the very last time Dudley had hit him, hadn't he gotten his revenge, without even realizing he was doing it? Hadn't he set a boa constructor on him?

Hairy looked back at Hagrid, smiling, and saw that Hagrid was positively beaming at him.

"See?" Said Hagrid, "Hairy Trotter, not gifted- you wait, you'll be right famous at Celestia's School."

But Uncle Vernon wasn't going to give in without a fight.

"Haven't I told you he's not going?" He hissed, "He's going to Stonewall High and he'll be grateful for it. I've read those letters and he needs all sorts of rubbish- spell books and horn enhancers and-"

"If he wants ter go, a great muggle like you won't stop him," growled Hagrid, "Stop Lily an' James Trotter's colt goin' ter Celestia's School! Yer mad. His name's been down ever since he was born. He's off ter the finest school of advanced unicorn magic in the world. Seven years there and he won't know himself. He'll be with youngsters of his own sort, fer a change, an' he'll be under the greatest headmaster Celestia's School ever had, Albus Dumbled-"

"I AM NOT PAYING FOR SOME CRACKPOT OLD FOOL TO TEACH HIM MAGIC TRICKS!" Yelled Uncle Vernon.

But he had finally gone too far. Hagrid seized his umbrella in his mouth and whirled it above him, "NEVER-" he thundered through a mouth full of umbrella, "-INSULT- ALBUS- DUMBLEDORE- IN- FRONT- OF- ME!"

He brought the umbrella swishing down through the air to point at Dudley- there was a flash of violet light, a sound like a fire cracker, a sharp squeal, and the next second, Dudley was dancing on the spot, howling in pain. When he turned his back on them, Hairy saw a curly pig's tail instead on his pony tail.

Uncle Vernon roared. Pulling Aunt Petunia and Dudley into the other room, he cast one last terrified look at Hagrid and slammed the door behind them.

Hagrid looked down at his umbrella, which he had dropped, and ran his hoof over it.

"Shouldn'ta lost me temper," he said ruefully, "but it didn't work anyway. Meant ter turn him into a pig, but I suppose he was so much like a pig anyway there wasn't much left ter do."

He cast a sideways look at Hairy under his bushy eyebrows.

"Be grateful if yeh didn't mention that ter anypony at Celestia's School," he said, "I'm- er- not supposed ter do magic, strictly speakin'. I was allowed ter do a bit ter follow yeh an' get yer letters to yeh an' stuff- one o' the reasons I was so keen ter take on the job-"

"Why aren't you supposed to do magic?" Asked Hairy.

"Oh, well- I was at Celestia's School meself but I- er- got expelled, ter tell yeh the truth. In me third year. They snapped me horn enhancer in half an' everything. But Dumbledore let me stay on as gamekeeper. Great stallion, Dumbledore."

"Why were you expelled?"

"It's gettin' late and we've got lots ter do tomorrow," said Hagrid loudly, "Gotta get up ter town, get all yer books and that."

He pulled a think blank blanket out of his satchel and threw it to Hairy.

"You can kip under that," he said, "Don' mind if it wriggles a bit, I think I still got a couple o' dormice wrapped up in it."


	5. Dragon Alley

Hairy woke early the next morning. Although he could tell it was daylight, he kept his eyes shut tight.

"It was a dream," he told himself firmly, "I dreamt a giant called Hagrid came to tell me I was going to a school for gifted unicorns. When I open my eyes I'll be at home in my cupboard."

There was suddenly a loud tapping noise.

 _And there's Aunt Petunia knocking at the door_ , Hairy thought, his heart sinking. But he still didn't open his eyes it had been such a good dream.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

"All right," Hairy mumbled, "I'm getting up."

He sat up and Hagrid's heavy blanket fell off him. The hut was full of sunlight, the storm was over, Hagrid himself was asleep on the collapsed sofa, and there was an owl rapping its claws on the window, a newspaper held in its beak.

Hairy scrambled to his hooves, so happy he felt as though a large balloon was swelling inside him. He went strait to the window and jerked it open. The owl swooped in and dropped the newspaper on top of Hagrid, who didn't wake up. The owl then fluttered onto the floor and began to attack Hagrid's satchel.

"Don't do that."

Hairy tried to wave the owl out of the way, but it snapped its beak fiercely at him and carried on savaging the satchel.

"Hagrid!" Said Hairy loudly, "There's an owl-"

"Pay him," Hagrid grunted into the sofa.

"What?"

"He wants payin' fer deliverin' the paper. Look in the pockets."

Hagrid's satchel seemed to be made of nothing _but_ pockets- bunches of keys, slug pellets, balls of string, peppermint humbugs, teabags...finally, Hairy pulled out a hoofful of strange-looking coins.

"Give him five Knuts," said Hagrid sleepily.

"Knuts?"

"The little bronze ones."

Hairy counted out five little bronze coins, and the owl held out his leg so Hairy could put the money into a small leather pouch tied to it. Then he flew off through the open window.

Hagrid yawned loudly, sat up, and stretched.

"Best be off, Hairy, lots ter do today, gotta get up ter Ponydon an' buy all yer stuff fer school."

Hairy was turning over the gifted unicorn coins and looking at them. He had just thought of something that made him feel as thought the happy balloon inside him had got a puncture.

"Um- Hagrid?"

"Mm?" Said Hagrid, who was putting on his satchel.

"I haven't got any money- and you heard Uncle Vernon last night...he won't pay for me to go and learn advanced magic."

"Don't worry about that," said Hagrid, standing up, "D'yeh think yer parents didn't leave yeh anything?"

"But if their house was destroyed-"

"They didn' keep their gold in the house, colt! Nah, first stop fer us is Grintrotts. Gifted unicorns' bank. Have a roasting carrot, they're not bad cold- an' I wouldn' say no teh a bit o' yer birthday cake, neither."

"Gifted unicorns have _banks_?"

"Just the one. Grintrotts. Run by goblins."

Hairy dropped the bit of roasted carrot in his mouth.

" _Goblins_?"

"Yeah- so yeh'd be mad ter try and rob it, I'll tell yeh that. Never mess with goblins, Hairy. Grintrotts is the safest place in Equestria fer anything yeh want ter keep safe- 'cept maybe Celestia's School. As a matter o' fact, I gotta visit Grintrotts anyway. Fer Dumbledore. Celestia's School business," Hagrid drew himself up proudly, "He usually gets me ter do important stuff fer him. Fetchin' you- gettin' things from Grintrotts- knows he can trust me, see.

"Got everythin'? Come on, then."

Hairy followed Hagrid out onto the rock. The sky was quite clear now and the sea gleamed in the sunlight. The boat Uncle Vernon had hired was still there, with a lot of water in the bottom after the storm.

"How did you get here?" Hairy asked, looking around for another boat.

"Flew," said Hagrid.

" _Flew_?"

"Yeah- but we'll go back in this. Not s'pposed ter use magic now I've got yeh."

They settled down in the boat, Hairy still staring at Hagrid, trying to imagine him flying, since he wasn't a Pegasus.

"Seems a shame ter row, though," said Hagrid, giving Hairy another of his sideways looks, "If I was ter- er- speed things up a bit, would yeh mind not mentionin' it at Celestia's School?"

"Of course not," said Hairy, eager to see more advanced magic. Hagrid pulled out the pink umbrella again, and, his horn glowing along with the umbrella in his mouth, tapped it twice on the side of the boat, and they sped off towards land.

"Why would you be mad to try and rob Grintrotts?" Hairy asked.

"Spells- enchantments," said Hagrid, unfolding his newspaper as he spoke, "They say there's dragons guardin' the high-security vaults. And then yeh gotta find yer way- Grintrotts is hundreds of miles under Ponydon, see. Deep under the Underground. Yeh'd die of hunger tryin' ter get out, even if yeh did manage ter get yer hands on summat."

Hairy said and thought about this while Hagrid read his newspaper, the _Daily Prophet._ Hairy had learned from Uncle Vernon that ponies liked to be left alone while they did this, but it was very difficult, he'd never had so many questions in his life.

"Ministry o' Magic messin' things up as usual," Hagrid muttered, turning the page.

"There's a Ministry of Magic?" Hairy asked, before he could stop himself.

"'Course," said Hagrid, "They wanted Dumbledore fer Minister, o' course, but he'd lever leave Celestia's School, so old Cornelius Fudge got the job. Bungler if there ever was one. So he pelts Dumbledore with owls every morning, askin' fer advise."

"But what does a Ministry of Magic _do_?"

"Well, there main job is to keep it from the muggles that there's still gifted unicorns up an' down Equestria."

"Why?"

" _Why_? Blimey, Hairy, everypony'd be wantin' advanced magic solutions to their problems. Nah, we're best left alone."

At this moment the boat bumped gently into the harbor wall. Hagrid folded up his newspaper, and they clambered up the stone steps onto the street.

Passersby stared a lot at Hagrid as they walked through the little town to the station. Hairy couldn't blame them. Not only was Hagrid twice as tall as anypony else, he kept pointing at perfectly ordinary things like parking meters and saying loudly, "See that, Hairy? Things these muggles dream up, eh?"

"Hagrid," said Hairy, panting a bit as he galloped to keep up, "Did you say there are _dragons_ at Grintrotts?"

"Well, so they say," said Hagrid, "Crikey, I'd like a wild dragon."

"You'd _like_ one?"

"Wanted one ever since I was a foal- here we go."

They had reached the station. There was a stallion-pulled train to Ponydon in five minutes' time. Hagrid, who didn't understand 'muggle money', as he called it, gave the bits to Hairy so he could buy their tickets.

Ponies stared more than ever on the train. Hagrid took up two seats and sat knitting what looked like a canary-yellow circus tent.

"Still got yer letter, Hairy?" He asked as he counted stitches.

Hairy took out the parchment envelope.

"Good," said Hagrid, "There's a list there of everything yeh need."

Hairy unfolded a second piece of paper he hadn't noticed the night before, and read:

CELESTIA'S SCHOOL

FOR GIFTED UNICORNS

UNIFORM

First-year students will require:

1\. Three sets of plain work robes (black)

2\. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear

3\. One pair of protective gloves (Dragon hide or similar) for front hooves

4\. One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)

Please note that all pupils' clothes should carry name tags

COURSE BOOKS

All students should have a copy of each of the following:

 _The Standard Book of Spells (Grade_ _1_ ) by Miranda Goshawk

 _A History of Magic_ by Bathilda Bagshot

 _Magical Theory_ by Adalbert Waffling

 _A Beginners' Guide to Transfiguration_ by Emeric Switch

 _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_ by Phyllida Spore

 _Magical Drafts and Potions_ by Arsenius Jigger

 _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_ by Newt Scamander

 _The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection_ by Quentin Trimble

OTHER EQUIPMENT

1 horn protector

1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)

1 set glass or crystal phials

1 telescope

1 set brass scales

Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad

PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS

ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS

"Can we buy all this in Ponydon?" Hairy wondered allowed.

"If yeh know where to go," Said Hagrid.

Hairy had never been to Ponydon before. Although Hagrid seemed to know where he was going, he was obviously not used to getting there in an ordinary way. He got stuck in the ticket barrier on the Underground, and complained loudly that the seats were too small and the trains too slow.

"I don't know how the muggles manage without advanced magic," He said as they climbed up the stairs that led up to a bustling road lined with shops.

Hagrid was so huge that he parted the crowd easily; all Hairy had to do was keep close behind him. They passed book shops and music stores, hayburger restaurants and cinemas, but nowhere that looked as if it could sell you a magic horn protector. This was just an ordinary street full of ordinary ponies. Could there really be piles of gifted unicorn gold buried miles underneath them? Were there really shops that sold spell books and broomsticks? Might this not all be some huge joke that the Dursleys had Cooked up? If Hairy hadn't known that the Dursleys had no sense of humor, he might have thought so; yet somehow, even though everything Hagrid had told him so far was unbelievable, Hairy couldn't help trusting him.

"This is it," Said Hagrid, coming to a hault, "The Leaky Cauldron. It's a famous place."

It was a tiny, grubby-looking pub. If Hagrid hadn't pointed it out, Hairy wouldn't have noticed it was there. The ponies hurrying by didn't glance at it. Their eyes slid from the big book shop on one side to the record shop on the other as if they couldn't see the Leaky Cauldron at all. In fact, Hairy had the most peculiar feeling that only he and Hagrid could see it. Before he could mention this, Hagrid ad steered him inside.

For a famous place, it was very dark and shabby. A few old mares were sitting in a corner, drinking tiny glasses of sherry. One of them was smoking a long pipe. A little stallion in a top hat was talking to the old bartender, who was quite bald and looked like a toothless walnut. The low buzz of chatter stopped when they walked in. Everypony seemed to know Hagrid; they waved and smiled at him, and the bartender reached for a glass, saying, "The usual, Hagrid?"

"Can't, Tom, I'm on Celestia's School business," Hagrid said, clapping his great hoof on Hairy's shoulder, and making Hairy's knees buckle.

"Good Lord," Said the bartender, peering at Hairy, "Is this- can this be-?"

The Leaky Cauldron had suddenly gone completely still and quiet

"Bless my soul," Whispered the old bartender, "Hairy Trotter...what an honor."

He hurried out from behind the bar, rushed towards Hairy and seized his hoof, tears in his eyes.

"Welcome back, Mr. Trotter, welcome back."

Hairy didn't know what to say. Everypony was looking at him. To old mare with the pipe was puffing on it without realizing it had gone out. Hagrid was beaming.

Then there was a great trotting of hooves and the next moment, Hairy found himself shaking hooves with everypony in the Leaky Cauldron.

"Doris Crockford, Mr. Trotter, can't believe I'm meeting you at last."

"So proud, Mr. Trotter, I'm just so proud."

"Always wanted to shake your hoof- I'm all of a flutter."

"Delighted, Mr. Trotter, just can't tell you, Diggle's the name, Dedalus Diggle."

"I've seen you before!" Said Hairy, as Dedalus Diggle's top hat fell off in his excitement, "You bowed to me once in a shop."

"He remembers!" Cried Dedalus Diggle, looking around at everypony, "Did you hear that?" He remembers me!"

Hairy shook hooves again and again- Doris Crockford kept coming back for more.

A white young stallion made his way forward, very nervously. One of his eyeballs was twitching.

"Professor Quirrel!" Said Hagrid, "Hairy, Professor Quirrel will be one of your teachers at Celestia's School."

"T-T-Trotter," Stammered Professor Quirrel, grasping at Hairy's hoof, "C-can't t-tell you how p-pleased I am to meet you."

"What sort of magic do you teach, Professor Quirrel?"

"D-Defence Against the D-D-Dark Arts," Muttered Professor Quirrel, as though he'd rather not think about it, "N-not that you n-need it, eh, T-T-Trotter?" He laughed nervously, "You'll be g-getting all your equipment, I suppose? I've g-got to p-pick up a new b-book on vamponies, m-myself." He looked terrified at the very thought.

But the others wouldn't let Professor Quirrel keep Hairy to himself. It took almost ten minutes to get away from them all. At last, Hagrid managed to make himself heard over the babble.

"Must get on- lots ter buy. Come on, Hairy."

Doris Crockford shook Hairy's hoof one more time, and Hagrid led them through the bar and out into a small, walled courtyard, where there was nothing but a trashcan and a few weeds.

Hagrid grinned at Hairy.

"Told yeh, didn't I? Told yeh you was famous. Even Professor Quirrel was tremblin' ter meet yeh- mind you, he's usually tremblin'."

"Is he always that nervous?"

"Oh, yeah. Poor bloke. Brilliant mind. He was fine while he was studyin' outta books but then he took a year off ter get some first-hand experience...They say he met vamponies in the Everfree Forest, and there was a nasty bit o' trouble with a hag- never been the same since. Scared of the students, scared of his own subject- now, where's me umbrella?"

Vamponies? Hags? Hairy's head was swimming. Hagrid, meanwhile, was counting bricks in the wall above the trash can.

"Three up...two across..." He muttered, "Right, stand back, Hairy."

He picked up the umbrella in his mouth and tapped the wall three time with the point.

The brick he had touched quivered- it wriggled- in the middle, a small hole appeared- it grew wider and wider- a second later they were facing an archway large enough even for Hagrid, an archway onto a cobbled street that twisted and turned out of sight.

"Welcome," Said Hagrid, "To Dragon Alley."

He grinned at Hairy's amazement. They stepped through the archway. Hairy looked quickly over his shoulder and saw the archway shrink instantly back into solid wall.

The sun shone brightly on a stack of cauldrons outside the nearest shop. 'Cauldrons- All Sizes- Copper, Brass, Pewter, Silver- Self-Stirring- Collaspsible' said a sign hanging over them.

"Yeah, you'll be needin' one," Said Hagrid, "But we gotta get yer money first."

Hairy wished he had about eight more eyes. He turned his head in every direction as they walked up the street, trying to look at everything at once: the shops, the things outside them, the unicorns doing their shopping. A plump mare outside an Apothecary was shaking her head as they passed, saying, "Dragon liver, seventeen Sickles an ounce, they're mad..."

A low, soft hooting came from a dark shop with a sign saying 'Eeylops Owl Emporium- Tawny, Screech, Barn, Brown, and Snowy'. Several colts of about Hairy's age had their muzzles pressed against a window with broomsticks in it. "Look," Hairy heard one of them say, "The new Nimbus Two Thousand- fastest ever-"There were shops selling robes, shops selling telescopes and strange silver instruments Hairy had never seen before, windows stacked with barrels of bat spleens and eels' eyes, tottering piles of spells book, quills, and rolls of parchment, potion bottles, globes of the moon...

"Grintrotts," Said Hagrid.

They had reached a snowy white building that towered over the other little shops. Standing beside its burnished bronze doors, wearing a uniform of scarlet and gold, was-

"Yeah, that's a goblin," Said Hagrid quietly as the walked up the white stone steps towards him. The goblin was about a head shorter that Hairy, and stood on two legs. He had a swarthy, clever face, a pointed beard and, though Hairy didn't know they were called them, very long fingers and feet. He bowed as they walked inside. Now they were facing a second pair of doors, silver this time, with words engraved upon them:

 _Enter, stranger, but take heed_

 _Of what awaits the sin of greed,_

 _For those who take, but do not earn,_

 _Must pay most dearly in their turn._

 _So if you seek beneath our floors_

 _A treasure that was never yours,_

 _Thief, you have been warned, beware_

 _Of finding more than treasure there._

"Like I said, yeh'd be mad ter try an' rob it," Said Hagrid.

A pair of goblins bowed them through the silver doors and they were in a vast marble hall. About a hundred more goblins were sitting on high stools behind a long counter, examining precious stones through eyeglasses. There were too many doors to count leading off the hall, and yet more goblins were showing ponies in and out of these. Hagrid and Hairy made for the counter.

"Morning," Said Hagrid to a free goblin, "We've come ter take some money outta Mr. Hairy Trotter's safe."

"You have his key, sir?"

"Got it here somewhere," Said Hagrid, and he started emptying his pockets onto the counter, scattering a hoofful of moldy dog biscuits over the goblin's book of numbers. The goblin wrinkled his nose. Hairy watched a goblin on their right weighing a pile of rubies as big as glowing coals.

"Got it," Said Hagrid at last, holding up a tiny golden key.

The goblin looked at it closely.

"That seems to be in order."

"An' I've also got a letter here from Professor Dumbledore," Said Hagrid importantly, throwing out his chest, "It's about the You-Know-What in vault seven hundred and thirteen."

The goblin read the letter carefully.

"Very well," He said, handing it back to Hagrid, "I will have somepony take you down to both vaults. Griphook!"

Griphook was yet another goblin. Once Hagrid had crammed all the dog biscuits back inside his pockets, he and Hairy followed Griphook toward one of the doors leading off the hall.

"What's the You-Know-What in vault seven hundred and thirteen?" Hairy asked.

"Can't tell yeh that," Said Hagrid mysteriously, "Very secret. Celestia's School business. Dumbledore's trusted me. More'n my job's worth ter tell yeh that."

Griphook held the door open for them. Hairy, who had expected more marble, was surprised. They were in a narrow stone passageway lit with flaming torches. It sloped steeply downward and there were little railway tracks on the floor. Griphook whistled and a small cart came hurtling up the tracks towards them. They climbed in- Hagrid with some difficulty- and were off.

At first they Just hurtled through a maze of twisting passages. Hairy tried to remember, left, right, right, left, middle fork, right, left, but it was impossible. The rattling cart seemed to know its own way, because Griphook wasn't steering.

Hairy's eyes stung as the cold air rushed passed them, but he kept them wide open. Once, he thought he saw a burst of fire at the end of a passage and twisted around to see if it was a dragon, but too late- they plunged even deeper, passing an underground lake where huge stalactites and stalagmites grew from the ceiling and floor.

"I never know," Hairy called to Hagrid over the noise of the cart, "What the difference between a stalagmite and a stalactite?"

"Stalagmite's got an 'm' in it," Said Hagrid, "An' don't ask me questions just now, I think I'm gonna be sick."

He did look very green under his fur, and when the cart stopped at last beside a small door in the passage wall, Hagrid got out and had to lean against the wall to stop his knees from trembling.

Griphook unlocked the door. A lot of green smoke cam billowing out, and as it cleared, Hairy gasped. Inside were mounds of gold coins. Columns of silver. Heaps of little brown Knuts.

"All yours," Smiled Hagrid.

All Hairy's- it was incredible. The Dursleys couldn't have known about this or they'd have had it from him faster than blinking. How often had they complained how much Hairy cost them to keep? And all the time there had been a small fortune belonging to him, buried deep under Ponydon.

"The gold ones are Galleons," He explained, "Seventeen silver Sickles to a Galleon and twenty-nine Knuts to a Sickle, it's easy enough. Right, that should be enough fer a couple o' terms, we'll keep the rest safe for yeh." He turned to Griphook, "Vault seven hundred and thirteen, please, and can we go more slowly?"

"One speed only," Said Griphook.

They were going even deeper now and gathering speed. The air became colder and colder as they hurtled round tight corners. They went rattling over an underground ravine, and Hairy leaned over the side to try to see what was down at the dark bottom, but Hagrid groaned and pulled him back by the scruff of his neck.

Vault seven hundred and thirteen had no keyhole.

"Stand back," Said Griphook importantly. He stroked the door gently with one of his long fingers and it simply melted away.

"If anyone but a Grintrotts goblin tried that, they'd be sucked through the door and trapped in there," Said Griphook.

"How often do you check to see if anyone's inside?" Hairy asked.

"About once every ten years," Said Griphook with a rather nasty grin.

Something really extraordinary had to be inside this top security vault, Hairy was sure, and he leaned forward eagerly, expecting to see fabulous jewels at the very least- but at first he thought it was empty. Then he notice a grubby little package wrapped up in brown paper lying on the floor. Hagrid picked it up and tucked it deep inside his coat. Hairy longed to know what it was, but knew better than to ask.

"Come on, back in this infernal cart, and don't talk to me on the way back, it's best if I keep me mouth shut," Said Hagrid.

One wild cart ride later they stood blinking in the sunlight outside Grintrotts. Hairy didn't know where to run first now that he had a bag full of money. He didn't have to know how many Galleons there were in a pound to know that he was holding more money than he'd had in his whole life- more money than even Dudley had ever had.

"Might as well get yer uniform," Said Hagrid, nodding towards Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions, "Listen, Hairy, would yeh mind if I slipped off fer a pick-me-up in the Leaky Cauldron? I hate them Grintrotts carts." He did still look a bit sick, so Hairy entered Madam Malkin's shop alone, feeling nervous.

Madam Malkin was a squat, smiling mare with mauve fur.

"Celestia's School, dear?" She said, when Hairy started to speak, "Got the lot here- another young colt getting fitted up just now, in fact."

In the back of the shop, a colt with a pale white, pointed face was standing on a hoofstool while a second mare pinned up his long black robes. Madam Malkin stood Hairy on a stool next to him, slipped a long robe over his head, and began to pin it to the right length.

"Hello," Said the colt, "Celestia's School, too?"

"Yes," Said Hairy.

"My father's next door buying my books and mother's up the street looking at wands," Said the colt. He had a bored, drawling voice, "Them I'm going to drag them off to look at racing brooms. I don't see why first years can't have their own. I think I'll bully father into getting me one and I'll smuggle it in somehow."

Hairy was strongly reminded of Dudley.

"Have _you_ got your own broom?" The colt went on.

"No," Said Hairy.

"Play Quidditch at all?"

"No," Hairy said again, wondering what in Equestria Quidditch could be.

" _I_ do- Father says it's a crime if I'm not picked to play for my house, and I must say, agree. Know what house you'll be in yet?"

"No," Said Hairy, feeling more stupid by them minute.

"Well, no one really knows until they get there, do they, but I know ill be in Slytherin, all our family have been- imagine being in Hufflepuff, I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?"

"Mmm," Said Hairy, wishing he could say something a bit more interesting.

"I say, look at that man!" Said the colt suddenly, nodding toward the front window. Hagrid was standing there, grinning at Hairy and pointing at two large ice creams to show he couldn't come in.

"That's Hagrid," Said Hairy, pleased to know something the colt didn't, "He works at Celestia's School."

"Oh," Said the colt, "I've heard of him. He's sort of a servant, isn't he?"

"He's the gamekeeper," Said Hairy. He was liking the colt less and less every second.

"Yes, exactly. I heard he's a sort of _savage_ \- lives in a hut on the school grounds and every now and then he gets drunk, tries to do advanced magic, and ends up setting fire to his bed."

"I think he's brilliant," Said Hairy coldly.

" _Do_ you?" Said the colt, with a slight sneer, "Why is he with you? Where are your parents?"

"They're dead," Said Hairy shortly. He didn't feel much like going into the matter with this colt.

"Oh, sorry," Said the other, not sounding sorry at all, "But they were _our_ kind, weren't they?"

"They were gifted unicorns, if that's what you mean."

"I really don't think they should let the other sort in, do you? They're just not the same, they've never been brought up to know our ways. Some of them have never even heard of Celestia's School until they get the letter, imagine. I think they should keep it in the old gifted families. What's your surname, anyway?"

But before Hairy could answer, Madam Malkin said, "That's you done, my dear," and Hairy, not sorry for an excuse to stop talking to the colt, hopped down from the hoofstool.

"Well, I'll see you at Celestia's School, I suppose," Said the drawling colt.

Hairy was rather quiet as he ate the ice cream Hagrid had bought him. (Chocolate and raspberry with chopped nuts)

"What's up?" Said Hagrid.

"Nothing," Hairy lied. They stopped to buy parchment and quills. Hairy cheered up a bit when he found a bottle of ink that changed color as you wrote. When they had left the shop, he said, "Hagrid, what's Quidditch?"

"Blimey, Hairy, I keep forgettin' how little yeh know- not knowin' about Quidditch!"

"Don't make me feel worse," Said Hairy. He told Hagrid about the pale colt in Madam Malkin's.

"-and he said unicorns from Muggle families shouldn't even be allowed in-"

"Yer not _from_ a Muggle family. If he'd known who yeh _were_ \- he's grown up knowin' yer name if his parents are gifted unicorns. You saw what everypony in the Leaky Cauldron was like when they saw yeh. Anyway, what does he know about it, some o' the best I ever saw were the only unicorns in a long line o' Pegasi and Earth ponies and non-gifted unicorns- look at yer mum! Look what she had fer a sister!"

"So what _is_ Quidditch?"

"It's our sport. Gifted unicorn sport. It's like-like Pegasus soccer in the Muggle world- everypony follows Quidditch- played up in the air on broomsticks and there's four balls- sorta hard ter explain the rules."

"And what are Slytherin and Hufflepuff?"

"School houses. There's four. Everypony says Hufflepuff are a lot o' duffers, but-"

"I bet I'm in Hufflepuff," Said Hairy gloomily.

"Better Hufflepuff than Slytherin," Said Hagrid darkly, "There's not a single unicorn who went bad who wasn't in Slytherin. You-Know-Who was one."

"Vol-, sorry- You-Know-Who was at Celestia's School?"

"Years an' years ago," Said Hagrid.

They bought Hairy's school books in a shop called Flourish and Trotts where the shops were stacked to the ceiling with books as large as paving stones bound in leather; books the size of postage stamps in covers of silk; books full of peculiar symbols and a few books with nothing in them at all. Even Dudley, who never read anything, would have been wild to get his hands on some of these. Hagrid almost had to drag Hairy away from _Curses and Countercurses (Bewitch Your Friends and Befuddle Your Enemies with the Latest Revenges: Fur or Mane Loss, Jelly-Legs, Tongue-Tying and Much, Much More)_ by Professor Vindictus Viridian.

"I was trying to figure out how to curse Dudley."

"I'm not sayin' that's not a good idea, but yer not ter use advanced magic in the Muggle world except in very special circumstances," Said Hagrid, "Yeh can use levitation, though. An' anyway, yeh couldn't work any of them curses yet, yeh'll need a lot more study before yeh get tee that level."

Hagrid wouldn't let Hairy buy a solid gold cauldron, either, ("It says pewter on yer list") but they got a nice set of scales for weighing potion ingredients and a collapsible brass telescope. Then they visited the Apothecary, which was fascinating enough to make up for it's horrible smell, a mixture of bad eggs and rotted cabbages. Barrels of slimy stuff stood on the floor; jars of herbs, dried roots, and bright powders lined the walls; bundles of feathers, strings of fangs, and snarled claws hung from the ceiling. While Hagrid asked the stallion behind the counter for a supply of basic potion ingredients for Hairy, Hairy himself examined silver dragon horns at twenty-one Galleons each and miniscule, glittery-black beetle eyes. (Five Knuts a scoop)

Outside the Apothecary, Hagrid checked Hairy's list again.

"Just yer horn protector left- oh yeah, an' I still haven't got yeh a birthday present."

Hairy felt himself go red.

"You don't have to-"

"I know I don't have to. Tell yeh what, I'll get yer animal. Not a toad, toads went out of fashion years ago yeh'd be laughed at- an' I don't like cats, they make me sneeze. I'll get yer an owl. All the foals want owls, they're dead useful, carry yer mail an' everythin'."

Twenty minutes later, they left Eeylops Owl Emporium, which had been dark and full of rustling and flickering, jewel-bright eyes. Hairy now carried a large cage on his back that held a beautiful snowy owl, fast asleep with her head under her wing. He couldn't stop stammering his thanks, sounding just like Professor Quirrel.

"Don' mention it," Said Hagrid gruffly, "Don't expect you've had a lotta presents from the Dursleys. Just Ollivanders left now- only place fer horn protectors, Ollivanders, and yeh gotta have the best protector."

A horn protector...this was what Hairy had really been looking forward to.

The last shop has narrow and shabby. Peeling gold letters over the door read 'Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Horn Protectors since 382 B.C.' A single protector lay on a faded purple cushion in the dusty window.

A tinkling bell rang somewhere in the depths of the shop as they stepped inside. It was a tiny place, empty except for a single, spindly chair that Hagrid sat on to wait. Hairy felt strangely as though he had entered a very strict library; he swallowed a lot of new questions that had just occurred to him and looked instead at the thousands of square boxes piled neatly right up to the ceiling. For some reason, the back of his neck prickled. The very dust and silence in here seemed to tingle with some secret magic.

"Good afternoon," Said a soft voice. Hairy jumped. Hagrid must have jumped, too, because there,was a loud crunching noise and he quickly got off the spindly chair.

An old stallion was standing before them, his wide, pale eyes shining like moons through the gloom of the shop.

"Hello," Said Hairy awkwardly.

"Ah yes," Said the stallion, "Yes, yes. I thought I'd be seeing you soon. Hairy Trotter." It wasn't a question, "You have your mother's eyes. It seems only yesterday she was in here herself, buying her first horn protector. Swishy, made of willow. Nice protector for charm work."

Mr. Ollivander moved closer to Hairy. Hairy wished he would blink. Those silvery eyes were a bit creepy.

"Your father, on the other hoof, favored a mahogany protector. Pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration. Well, I say your father favored it- it really the protector that chooses the horn, of course."

Mr. Ollivander had come so close that he and Hairy were almost muzzle to muzzle. Hairy could see himself reflected in those misty eyes.

"And that's where..."

Mr. Ollivander touched the lightning scar on Hairy forehead with a long, white hoof.

"I'm sorry to say I sold the protector that did it," He said softly, "Yew. Powerful protector, very powerful, and on the wring horn...well, if I'd known what that protector was going out into the world to do..."

He shook his head and then, to Hairy's relief, spotted Hagrid.

"Rubeus! Rubeus Hagrid! How nice to see you again...Oak, rather bendy, wasn't it?"

"It was, sir, yes," Said Hagrid.

"Good protector, that one. But I suppose they broke it in pieces when you got expelled?" Said Mr. Ollivander, suddenly stern.

"Er- yes, they did, yes," Said Hagrid, shuffling his hooves, "I've still got the pieces, though," He added brightly.

"But you don't _use_ them?" Said Mr. Ollivander sharply.

"Oh, no, sir," Said Hagrid quickly. Hairy noticed he gripped his pink umbrella very tightly as he spoke.

"Hmmm," Said Mr. Ollivander, giving Hagrid a piercing look, "Well, now- Mr. Trotter. Let me see." He pulled a long tape measure with silver markings out.

"Hold out your hoof. That's it." He measured Hairy from shoulder to hoof, then wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit and round his horn. As he measured, he said, "Every Ollivander horn protector has a core of a powerful magical substance, Mr. Trotter. We use human hairs, Phoenix tail feathers, and the heart strings of dragons. No two Ollivander protectors are the same, just as no two humans, dragons, or phoenixes are quite the same. Each protector also grows or shrinks to fit the horn of a unicorn. And of course, you will never get such good results with another unicorn's protector."

Hairy suddenly realized that the tape measure, which was measuring between his nostrils, was doing this on its own, surrounded by a silvery grey light, just like Mr. Ollivander's horn. The protector was really the one glowing, but it had changed color to look just like his horn. Mr. Ollivander was flitting around the shelves, taking down boxes with his magic.

"That will do," He said, and the tape measure crumpled into a heap on the floor, "Right then, Mr. Trotter. Try this one. Beechwood and dragon heartstring. Nice and flexible. Just take it and give it a try."

Hairy put the horn protector on and (feeling foolish) tried it out a bit, but Mr. Ollivander took it off his horn almost at once.

"Maple and phoenix feather. Quite whippy. Try-"

Hairy tried, but he had hardly put it on when it, too, was snatched back by Mr. Ollivander.

"No, no- here, ebony and human hair, springy. Go on, go on, try it out."

Hairy tried. And tried. He had no idea what Mr. Ollivander was waiting for. The pile of tried horn protectors was mounting higher and higher on the spindly chair, but the more protectors Mr. Ollivander pulled from the shelves, the happier he seemed to become.

"Tricky customer, eh? Not to worry, we'll find the perfect match here somewhere- I wonder, now- yes, why not- unusual combination- holly and phoenix feather, nice and supple."

Hairy took the protector. He felt a sudden warmth in his horn. He raised his head, brought it swishing down through the dusty air and a stream of red and gold sparks shot from the end of his horn like a firework, throwing dancing spots of light onto the walls. Hagrid whooped and stomped and Mr. Ollivander cried, "Oh, bravo! Yes, indeed, oh, very good. Well, well, well...how curious...how very curious..."

He put Hairy's protector back into its box and wrapped it in brown paper, still muttering, "Curious...curious..."

"Sorry," Said Hairy, "But _what's_ curious?"

Mr. Ollivander fixed Hairy with his pale stare.

"I remember every horn protector I've ever sold, Mr. Trotter. Every single protector. It just so happens that the phoenix who's tail feather is in your protector, gave another feather- just one other. It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for this protector when its brother- why, its brother gave you that scar."

Hairy swallowed.

"Yes, yew. Curious indeed how these things happen. The protector chooses the horn, remember...I think we must expect great things from you, Mr. Trotter...After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things- terrible, yes, but great."

Hairy shivered. He wasn't sure he liked Mr. Ollivander too much. He paid seven gold galleons for his protector, and Mr. Ollivander bowed them from his shop.

* * *

The late afternoon sun hung low in the sky as Hairy and Hagrid made their way back down Dragon Alley, back through the wall, back through the Leaky Cauldron, now empty. Hairy didn't speak at all as they walked down the road; he didn't even notice how much ponies were gawking at them on the Underground, laden as they were with all their funny-shaped packages, with the snowy owl asleep in its cage next to Hairy. Up more stairs, out into Trottington station; Hairy only realized where they were when Hagrid tapped him on the shoulder.

"Got time fer a bite to eat before yer train leaves," He said.

He bought Hairy a hayburger and they sat down on cushion seats to eat them. Hairy kept looking around. Everything looked so strange, somehow.

"You all right, Hairy? Yer very quiet," Said Hagrid.

Hairy wasn't sure he could explain. He'd just had the best birthday of his life- and yet- he chewed his hayburger, trying to find the words.

"Everypony thinks I'm special," He said at last, "All those ponies in the Leaky Cauldron, Professor Quirrel, Mr Ollivander...but I don't know anything about advance magic at all. How can they expect great things? I'm famous and I can't even remember what I'm famous for. I don't know what happened when Vol-, sorry- I mean, the night my parents died."

Hagrid leaned across the table. Behind the wild beard and mane he wore a very kind smile.

"Don' you worry, Hairy. You'll lean fast enough. Everypony starts at the beginning at Celestia's School, you'll be just fine. Just be yerself. I know it's hard. Yeh've been singled out, an' that's always hard. But yeh'll have a great time at Celestia's School- I did- still do, 'smatter of fact."

Hagrid helped Hairy on to the train that would take him back to the Dursleys, then hoofed him an envelope.

"Yer ticket fer Celestia's School," He said, "First o' September- King's Cross- it's all on yer ticket. Any problems with the Dursleys, send me a letter with yer owl, she'll know where to find me...See yeh soon, Hairy."

The train pulled out of the station. Hairy wanted to watch Hagrid until he was out of sight; he rose in his seat and pressed his muzzle against the window, but he blinked and Hagrid had gone.


	6. The Trip From Platform 9 Three Fourths

Hairy's last month with the Dursleys wasn't fun. True, Dudley was now so scared of Hairy he wouldn't stay in the same room, while Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon didn't shut Hairy in his cupboard, force him to do anything, or shout at him- in fact, they didn't speak to him at all. Half terrified, half furious, they acted as though any chair with Hairy in it were empty. Although this was an improvement in many ways, it did become a bit depressing after a while.

Hairy kept to his room, with his new owl for company. He had decided to call her Hedwig, a name he had found in _A History Of Magic_. His school books were very interesting. He lay on his bed reading late into the night, Hedwig swooping in and out of the window as she pleased. It was lucky that Aunt Petunia didn't come in to clean anymore, because Hedwig kept bringing back dead mice. Every night before he went to sleep, Hairy ticked off another day on the piece of parchment he had pinned to the wall, counting down to September the first.

On the last day of August he thought he'd better speak to his aunt and uncle about getting to King's Cross station the next day, so he went down to the living room where they were listening to a quiz show on the radio. He cleared his throat to let them know he was there, and Dudley screamed and galloped from the room.

"Er- Uncle Vernon?"

Uncle Vernon grunted to show he was listening.

"Er- I need to be at King's Cross tomorrow to- to go to Celestia's School."

Uncle Vernon grunted again.

"Would it be all right if you gave me a lift?"

Grunt. Hairy supposed that meant yes.

"Thank you."

He was about to go back upstairs when Uncle Vernon actually spoke.

"Funny was to get to a gifted unicorns' school, the train. Magic carpets all got punctures, have they?"

Hairy didn't say anything.

"Where is this school, anyway?"

"I don't know," Said Hairy, realizing this for the first time. He pulled out the ticket Hagrid had given him.

"I just take the train from platform nine and three-quarters at eleven o'clock," He read.

His aunt and uncle stared.

"Platform what?"

"Nine and three-quarters."

"Don't talk rubbish," Said Uncle Vernon, "There is no platform nine and three quarters."

"It's on my ticket."

"Barking," Said Uncle Vernon, "Howling mad, the lot of them. You'll see. You just wait. All right, we'll take you to King's Cross. We're going up to Ponydon tomorrow anyway, or I wouldn't bother."

"Why are you going to Ponydon?" Hairy asked, trying to keep things friendly.

"Taking Dudley to the hospital," Growled Uncle Vernon, "Got to have that ruddy pig tail removed before he goes to Smeltings."

* * *

Hairy woke at five o'clock the next morning and was too excited and nervous to go back to sleep. He got up but didn't change into his gifted unicorn's robes because he didn't want to walk into the station wearing them- he'd change on the train. He checked his Celestia's School list yet again to make sure he had everything he needed, saw that Hedwig was shut safely in her cage, and then paced the room, waiting for the Dursleys to get up. Two hours later, Hairy's huge, heavy trunk had been loaded into the Dursleys' chariot, Aunt Petunia had talked Dudley into sitting next to Hairy, and they had set off.

"They reached King's Cross at half past ten. Uncle Vernon dumped Hairy's trunk onto a cart and wheeled it into the station for him. Hairy thought this was strangely kind until Uncle Vernon stopped dead, facing the platforms with a nasty grin on his face.

"Well, there you are, colt. Platform nine- platform ten. Your platform should be somewhere in the middle, but they don't seem to have built it yet, do they?"

He was quite right, of course. There was a big plastic number nine over one platform and a big plastic number ten over the one next to it, and in the middle, nothing at all.

"Have a good term," Said Uncle Vernon with an even nastier smile. He left without another word. Hairy turned and saw Uncle Vernon pull the chariot away. All three of them were laughing. Hairy's mouth went rather dry. What in Equestria was he going to do? He was starting to attract a lot of funny looks, because of Hedwig. He'd have to ask somepony.

He stopped a passing guard, but didn't dare mention platform nine and three-quarters. The guard had never heard of Celestia's School and when Hairy couldn't even tell him what part of Equestria it was in, he started to get annoyed, as though Hairy was being stupid on purpose. Getting desperate, Hairy asked for the train that left at eleven o'clock, but the guard said there wasn't one. In the end the guard strode away, muttering about time wasters. Hairy was now trying hard not to panic. According to the large clock over the arrivals board, he had ten minutes left to get on the train to Celestia's School and he had no idea how to do it; he was stranded in the middle of the station with a trunk he could hardly lift, a saddle pocket full of gifted unicorn money, and a large owl.

Harris must have forgotten to tell him something you had to do, like tapping the third brick on the left to get into Dragon Alley. He wondered if he should get out his horn protector and start tapping the ticket inspector's stand between platforms nine and ten.

At that moment a group of unicorns passed just behind him and he caught a few words of what they were saying.

"-packed with Muggles, of course-"

Hairy swung around. The speaker was a plump reddish-Orange mare who was talking to four colts, all with a flaming red mane and tail, and they were all unicorns. Each of them was pushing a trunk like Hairy's in front of him- and they had an _owl_.

Heart hammering, Hairy pushed his cart after them. They stopped and so did he, just near enough to hear what they were saying.

"Now, what's the platform number?" Said the colts' mother.

"Nine and three-quarters!" Piped a small filly, also red-maned, but with sunshine yellow fur, who was standing next to her, "Mom, can't I go..."

"You're not old enough, Ginny, now be quiet. All right, Percy, you go first."

What looked like the oldest colt, with bright red fur, marched toward platforms nine and ten. Hairy watched, careful not to blink in case he missed in- but just as the colt reached the dividing barrier between the two platforms, a large crowd of tourists came swarming in front of him and by the time the last pony cleared away, the boy had vanished.

"Fred, you next," The plump mare said.

"I'm not Fred, I'm George," Said one of the colts with dark orange fur, "Honestly, mare, you call yourself our mother? Can't you _tell_ I'm George?"

"Sorry, George, dear."

"Only joking, I am Fred," Said the colt, and off he went. His twin called after him to hurry up, and he must have done so, because a second later, he had gone- but how had he done it?

Now the third brother was trotting briskly towards the barrier- he was almost there- and then, quite suddenly, he wasn't anywhere.

There was nothing else for it.

"Excuse me," Hairy said to the plump mare.

"Hello, dear," She said, "First time at Celestia's School? Ron's new, too."

She pointed at the last and youngest of her sons. He was tall, thin, and gangling, with freckles, yellowish-Orange fur, big hooves, and a long muzzle.

"Yes," Said Hairy, "The thing is- the thing is, I don't know how to-"

"How to get onto the platform?" She said kindly, and Hairy nodded.

"Not to worry," She said, "All you have to do is walk straight at the barrier between platforms nine and ten. Don't stop and don't be scared you'll crash into it, that's very important. Best do it at a bit of a gallop if you're nervous. Go on, go now before Ron."

"Er- ok," Said Hairy.

He pushed his trolley around and stared at the barrier. It looked very solid.

He started to walk towards it. Ponies jostled him on their way to platforms nine and ten. Hairy trotted more quietly. He was going to smash right into that barrier and then he'd be in trouble- leaning forward on his cart, he broke into a heavy gallop- the barrier was coming nearer and nearer- he wouldn't be able to stop- the cart was out of control- he was a hoof away- he closed his eyes ready for the crash-

It didn't come...he kept on galloping...he opened his eyes.

A scarlet steam engine was waiting next to a platform packed with ponies. Hairy couldn't see anypony pulling the train at the front. A sign overhead said 'Celestia's School Express, eleven o'clock.' Hairy looked behind him and saw a wrought-iron archway where the barrier had been, with the words _Platform Nine and Three-Quarters_ on it. He had done it.

Smoke from the engine drifted over the heads of the chattering crowd, while cats of every color wound here and there between their legs. Owls hooted to one another in a disgruntled sort of way over the babble and the scraping of heavy trunks. Hairy saw that the train was glowing lightly with unicorn magic.

The first few carriages were already packed with students, some hanging out of the window to talk to their families, some fighting over seats. Hairy pushed his cart off down the platform in search of an empty seat. He passed a round-faced colt who was saying, "Gran, I've lost my toad again."

"Oh, _Neville_ ," He heard the old mare sigh.

A colt with dreadlocks was surrounded by a small crowd.

"Give us a look, Lee, go on."

The colt lifted the lid of a box in front of him, and the ponies around him shrieked and yelled as something inside poked out a long, hairy leg.

Hairy pressed on through the crowd until he found an empty compartment near the end of the train. He put Hedwig inside first and then started to shove and heave his trunk toward the train door. He tried to lift it up the steps but could hardly raise one end and rice he dropped it painfully on his hoof.

"Want a hoof?" It was one of the red-maned twins he'd followed through the barrier.

"Yes, please," Hairy panted.

"Oy, Fred! C'mere and help!"

With the twins' help, Hairy's trunk was at last tucked away in a corner of the compartment.

"Thanks," Said Hairy, pushing his sweaty mane out of his eyes. He finally noticed that both twins even had the same cutie marks: a firecracker.

"What's that?" Said one of the twins suddenly, pointing at Hairy's lightning scar.

"Blimey," Said the other twin, "Are you-?"

"He _is_ ," Said the first twin, "Aren't you?" He added to Hairy.

"What?" Said Hairy.

" _Hairy Trotter_ ," Chorused the twins.

"Oh, him," Said Hairy, "I mean, yes, I am."

The two colts gawked at him, and Hairy felt himself turning red under his fur. Then, to his relief, a voice came floating in through the train's open door.

"Fred? George? Are you there?"

"Coming, Mom."

With a last look at Hairy, the twins hopped off the train.

Hairy sat down next to the window where, half hidden, he could watch the red-maned family on the platform and hear what they were saying. Their mother had just taken out her handkerchief with her magic.

"Ron, you've got something on your muzzle."

The youngest colt tried to jerk out of the way, but she grabbed him and began rubbing the end of his muzzle.

" _Mom_ \- geroff," He wriggled free.

"Aaah, has ickle Ronnie got somefink on his muzzle?" Said one of the twins.

"Shut up," Said Ron.

"Where's Percy?" Said their mother.

"He's coming now."

The oldest colt came striding into sight. He had already changed into his billowing black Celestia's School robes, and Hairy noticed a shiny silver badge on his chest with the letter _P_ on it.

"Can't stay long, Mother," He said, "I'm up front, the prefects have got two compartments to themselves-"

"Oh, are you a _prefect_ , Percy?" Said one of the twins, with an air of great surprise, "You should have said something, we had no idea."

"Hang on, I think I remember him saying something about it," Said the other twin, "Once-"

"Or twice-"

"A minute-"

"All summer-"

"Oh, shut up," Said Percy the Prefect.

"How come Percy gets new robes, anyway?" Said one of the twins.

"Because he's a _prefect_ ," Said their mother fondly, "All right, dear, well, have a good term- send me an owl when you get there."

She kissed Percy on the cheek and he left. Then she turned to the twins.

"Now, you two- this year, you behave yourselves. If I get one more owl telling Mr you've- you've blown up a toilet or-"

"Blown up a toilet? We've never blown up a toilet."

"Great idea though, thanks, Mom."

"It's _not funny._ And look after Ron."

"Don't worry, ickle Ronniekins is safe with us."

"Shut up," Said Ron again. He was almost as tall as the twins already and his muzzle was still pink where his mother had rubbed it.

"Hey, Mom, guess what? Guess who we just met on the train?"

Hairy leaned back quickly so they couldn't see him looking.

"You know that black-maned colt who was near us in the station? Know who he is?"

"Who?"

 _"Hairy Trotter_!"

Hairy heard the little filly's voice.

"Oh, Mom, can I go on the train and see him, Mom, oh please..."

"You've already seen him, Ginny, and the poor colt isn't something you goggle at in a zoo. Is he really, Fred? How do you know?"

"Asked him. Saw his scar. It's really there- like lightning."

"Poor _dear_ \- no wonder he was alone, I wondered. He was ever so polite when he asked how to get onto the platform."

"Never mind that, do you think he remembers what You-Know-Who looks like?"

Their mother suddenly became very stern.

"I forbid you to ask him, Fred. No, don't you dare. As though he needs reminding of that on his first day at school.

"All right, keep your fur on."

A whistle sounded.

"Hurry up!" Their mother said, and the three colts clambered onto the train. They leaned out of the window for her To kiss them good-bye, and their younger sister began to cry.

"Don't, Ginny, we'll send you loads of owls."

"We'll send you a Celestia's School toilet seat."

" _George_!"

"Only joking, Mom."

The train began to move. Hairy saw the colts' mother waving and their sister, half laughing, half crying, galloping to keep up with the train until it gathered too much speed, then she fell back and waved.

Hairy watched the filly and her mother disappear as the train rounded the corner. Houses flashed past the window. Hairy felt a great leap of excitement. He didn't know what he was going to- but it had to be better than what he was leaving behind.

The door of the compartment slid open and the youngest red-maned colt came in.

"Anypony sitting there?" He asked, pointing at the seat opposite Hairy, "Everywhere else is full."

Hairy shook his head and the colt sat down. He glanced at Hairy and then looked quickly out of the window, pretending he hadn't. Hairy saw he still had a black mark on his muzzle, and his cutie mark was a shield.

"Hey, Ron."

The twins were back.

"Listen, we're going down the middle of the train- Lee Jordan's got a giant tarantula down there."

"Right," Mumbled Ron.

"Hairy," Said the other twin, "Did we introduce,ourselves? Fred and George Weasley. And this is Ron, our brother. See you later, then."

"Bye," Said Hairy and Ron. The twins slid the compartment door shut behind them.

"Are you really Hairy Trotter?" Ron blurted out.

Hairy nodded.

"Oh- well, I thought it might be one of Fred and George's jokes," Said Ron, "And have you really got- you know..."

He pointed at Hairy's forehead.

Hairy pulled back his bangs to show the lightning scar. Ron stared.

"So that's where You-Know-Who-?"

"Yes," Said Hairy, "But I can't remember it."

"Nothing?" Said Ron eagerly.

"Well- I remember a lot of green light, but nothing else."

"Wow," Said Ron. He sat and stared at Hairy for a few moments, then, as though he had suddenly realized what he was doing, he looked quickly out of the window again.

"Are all your family gifted unicorns?" Asked Hairy, who found Ron just as interesting as Ron found him.

"Er- yes, I think so," Said Ron, "I think Mom's got a second cousin who's a Pegasus, but we never talk about him."

"So you must know loads of magic already."

The Weasleys were clearly one of those old gifted unicorn families the pale colt in Dragon Alley had talked about.

"I heard you went to live with Muggles," Said Ron, "What are they like?"

"Horrible- well, not all of them. My aunt and uncle and cousin are, though. Wish I'd had three gifted unicorn brothers."

"Five," Said Ron. For some reason, he was looking gloomy, "I'm the sixth in our family to go to Celestia's School. You could say I've got a lot to live up to. Bill and Charlie gave already left- Bill was head colt and Charlie was captain of Quidditch. Now Percy's a prefect. Fred and George mess around a lot, but they still get really good marks and everypony thinks they're really funny. Everypony expects me to do as well as the others, but if I do, it no big deal, because they did it first. You never get anything new, either, with five brothers. I've got Bill's old robes, Charlie's old horn protector, and Percy's old rat."

Ron reached inside his satchel and pulled out a fat gray rat, which was asleep.

"His name's Scabbers and he's useless, he hardly ever wakes up. Percy got an owl from my dad for being made a prefect, but they couldn't aff- I mean, I got Scabbers instead."

Ron's ears went pink. He seemed to think he said too much, because he went back to staring out of the window.

Hairy didn't think there was anything wrong with not being able to afford an owl. After all, he'd never had and money in his life until a month ago, nd he told Ron so, all about having to wear Dudley's old clothes and never getting proper birthday presents. This seemed to cheer Ron up.

"...and until Hagrid told me, I didn't know anything about being a gifted unicorn or about my parents or Voldemort-"

Ron gasped.

"What?" Said Hairy.

 _"You said You-Know-Who's name_!" Said Ron, sounding both shocked and impressed, "I'd have thought you, of all ponies-"

"I'm not trying to be _brave_ or anything, saying the name," Said Hairy, "I just never knew you shouldn't. See what I mean? I've got loads to learn...I bet," He added,voicing for the first time something that had been worrying him a lot lately, "I bet I'm the worst in the class."

"You won't be. There's loads of ponies who come from Muggle families and they learn quick enough."

While they had been talking, the train had carried them out of London. Now they were speeding past fields full of cows and sheep. They were quiet for a time, watching the fields and lanes flick past.

Around half past twelve there was a great clattering outside in the corridor and a smiling dimpled mare slid back their door and said, "Anything off the cart, dears?"

Hairy, who hadn't had any breakfast, leapt to his hooves, but Ron's ears went pink again and he'd muttered that he'd brought sandwiches. Hairy went out into the corridor.

He had never had any money for candy with the Dursleys, and now that he had a bag rattling with gold and silver he was ready to buy as many Mars Bars as he could carry- but the mare didn't have Mars Bars. What she did have Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, Drooble's Best Blowing Gum, Chocolate Frogs, Pumpkin Pasties, Cauldron Cakes, Licorice Horn Protectors, and a number of other strange things Hairy had never seen in his life. Not wanting to miss anything, he got some of everything and paid the mare eleven silver Sickles and seven bronze Knuts.

Ron stared as Hairy brought it all back in to the compartment and tipped it onto an empty seat.

"Hungry, are you?"

"Starving," Said Hairy, taking a large bite out of a pumpkin pasty.

Ron had taken out a lumpy package and unwrapped it. There were four sandwiches inside. He pulled one of them apart and said, "She always forgets I don't like corn."

"Swap you for one of these," Said Hairy, holding up a pasty, "Go on-"

"You don't want this, it's all dry," Said Ron, "She hasn't got much time," He added quickly, "You know, with five of us."

"Go on, have a pasty," Said Hairy, who never had anything to share before or, indeed, anypony to share it with. It was a nice feeling, sitting there with Ron, eating their way through all Hairy's pasties, cakes, and candies. (The sandwiches,lay forgotten)

"What are these?" Hairy asked Ron, holding up a pack of Chocolate Frogs, "They're not _really_ frogs, are they?" He was starting to feel that nothing would surprise him.

"No," Said Ron, "But see what the card is. I'm missing Agrippa."

"What?"

"Oh, of course, you wouldn't know- Chocolate Frogs have cards inside them, you know, to collect- famous gifted unicorns and even Princess Celestia and Princess Luna. I've got about five hundred, but I haven't got Agrippa or Ptolemy."

Hairy unwrapped his Chocolate Frog and picked up the card. It showed a stallion's face. He wore half-moon glasses, had a long, crooked muzzle, light blue fur, and flowing silver mane, tail, beard, and mustache. His cutie mark was a dark blue star. Underneath the picture was the name Albus Dumbledore.

"So _this_ is Dumbledore!" Said Hairy.

"Don't tell me you've never heard of Dumbledore!" Said Ron, "Can I have a frog? I might get Agrippa- thanks-"

Hairy turned his card over and read:

ALBUS DUMBLEDORE

Currently headmaster of Celestia's School

Considered by many the greatest gifted unicorn of modern times,

Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the dark unicorn

Grindelward in 1945, for the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon's

blood, and his work on alchemy with his partner, Nicolas Flamel. Professor

Dumbledore enjoys chamber music and tenpin bowling.

Hairy turned the card back over and saw, to his astonishment, that Dumbledore's face had disappeared.

"He's gone!"

"Well, you can't expect him to hang around all day," Said Ron, "He'll be back. No, I've got Morgana again and I've got about six of her...do you want it? You can start collecting."

Ron's eyes strayed to the pile of Chocolate Frogs waiting to be unwrapped.

"Help yourself," Said Hairy, "But in, you know, the Muggle world, ponies just stay put in photos."

"Do they? What, they don't move at all?" Ron sounded amazed, " _Weird_!"

Hairy stared as Dumbledore sidled back into the picture on his card and gave him a small smile. Ron was more interested in eating the frogs than looking at the Famous Gifted Unicorns cards, but Hairy couldn't keep his eyes off them. Soon he had not only Dumbledore and Morgana, but Hengist of Woodcroft, Alberic Grunnion, Circe, Paracelsus, and Marelin. He finally tore his eyes away from the druidess Cliodna, who was scratching her muzzle, to open a bag of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans.

"You want to be careful with those," Ron warned Hairy, "When they say every flavor, they _mean_ every flavor- you know, you get all the ordinary ones like chocolate and peppermint and marmalade, but then you can get spinach and even different meats. George reckons he had a booger-flavored one once."

Ron picked up a green bean, looked at it carefully, and bit into a corner.

"Bleaaargh- see? Sprouts."

They had a good time eating the Every Flavor Beans. Hairy got toast, coconut, baked bean, strawberry, curry, grass, coffee, sardine, and was even brave enough to nibble the end off a funny gray one Ron wouldn't touch, which turned out to be pepper.

The countryside now flying past the window was becoming wilder. The neat fields had gone. Now there were woods, twisting rivers, and dark green hills.

There was a knock on the door of their compartment and the round-faced colt Hairy had passed on platform nine and three-quarters came in. His cutie mark was a question mark over a broken cup. He looked tearful.

"Sorry," He said, "But have you seen a toad at all?"

When they shook their heads, he wailed, "I've lost him! He keeps getting away from me!"

"He'll turn up," Said Hairy.

"Yes," Said the colt miserably, "Well, if you see him..."

He left.

"Don't know why he's so bothered," Said Ron, "If I'd brought a toad I'd lose it as quick as I could. Mind you, I brought Scabbers, so I can't talk."

The rat was still snoozing next to Ron.

"He might have died and you wouldn't know the difference," Said Ron in disgust, "I tried to turn him yellow yesterday to make him more interesting, but the spell didn't work. I'll show you, look..."

He rummaged around in his trunk and pulled out a very battered-looking horn protector. It was chipped in places and something white was glinting at the end.

"Human hair's nearly poking out. Anyway-"

He had just put the horn protector on and raised his head when the compartment door slid open again. The toadless colt was back, but this time he had a filly with him. She was already wearing her new Celestia's School robes, so they couldn't see her cutie mark.

"Has anypony seen a toad? Neville's lost one," She said. She had a bossy sort of voice, a big bushy brown mane, light brown fur, and rather large front teeth.

"We already told him we haven't seen it," Said Ron, but the filly wasn't listening, she was looking at the horn protector on his horn.

"Oh, are you doing magic? Let's see it, then."

She sat down. Ron looked taken aback.

"Er- all right."

He cleared his throat.

 _"Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow,_

 _Turn this stupid, fat rat yellow."_

He waved his horn, but nothing happened. Scabbers stayed gray and fast asleep.

"Are you sure that's a real spell?" Said the filly, "Well, it's not very good, is it? I've tried a few simple spells just for practice and its all worked for me. Nopony in my family is a gifted unicorn, the only unicorn in my family is my great great grandma, it was ever such a surprise when I got my letter, but I was ever so pleased,of course, I mean, it's the very best school of magic, I've heard- I've learned all our course books by heart, of course, I just hope it will be enough- I'm Hermaneione Granger, by the way, who are you?"

She said this all very fast.

Hairy looked at Ron, and was relieved to see by his stunned face that he hadn't learned all the course books by heart either.

"I'm Ron Weasley," Ron muttered.

"Hairy Trotter," Said Hairy.

"Are you really?" Said Hermaneione, "I know all about you, of course- I got a few extra books for background reading, and you're in _Modern Magical History_ and _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts_ and _Great Gifted Unicorn Events if the Twentieth Century."_

"Am I?" Said Hairy, feeling dazed.

"Goodness, didn't you know, I'd have found out everything I could if it was me," Said Hermaneione, "Do either of you know what house you'll be in? I've been asking around, and I hope I'm in Gryffindor, it sounds by far the best; I hear Dumbledore himself was in it, but I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn't be too bad...Anyway, we'd better go and look for Neville's toad. You two had better change, you know, I expect we'll be there soon."

And she left, taking the toadless colt with her.

"Whatever house I'm in, I hope she's not in it," Said Ron. He threw his horn protector back into his trunk, "Stupid spell- George gave it to me, bet he knew it was a dud."

"What house are your brothers in?" Asked Hairy.

"Gryffindor," Said Ron. Gloom seemed to be settling on him again, "Mom and Dad were in it, too. I don't know what they'll say if I'm not. I don't suppose Ravenclaw would be too bad, but imagine if they put me in Slytherin."

"That's the house Vol-, I mean, You-Know-Who was in?"

"Yeah," Said Ron. He flopped back into his seat, looking depressed.

"You know, I think the ends of Scabbers' whiskers are a bit lighter," Said Hairy, trying to take Ron's mind off houses, "So what do your oldest brothers do now that they've left, anyway?"

Hairy was wondering what a gifted unicorn did once he'd finished school.

"Charlie's in Romaneia studying dragons, and Bill's in Aftrotca doing something for Grintrotts," Said Ron, "Did you hear about Grintrotts? It's been all over the Daily Prophet, but I don't suppose you get that with the Muggles- somepony tried to rob a high security vault."

Hairy stared.

"Really? What happened to them?"

"Nothing, that's why it's such big news. They haven't been caught. My dad says it must've been a powerful dark unicorn to get round Grintrotts, but they don't think they took anything, that's what's odd. 'Course, everypony gets scared when something like this happens in case You-Know-Who's behind it."

Hairy turned this news over in his mind. He was starting to get a prickle of fear every time You-Know-Who was mentioned. He supposed this was all part of entering the magical world, but it had been a lot more comfortable saying 'Voldemort' without worrying.

"What's your Quidditch team?" Ron asked.

"Er- I don't know any," Hairy confessed.

"What!" Ron looked dumbfounded, "Oh, you wait, it's the best game in the world-" And he was off, explaining all about the four balls and the positions of the seven players, describing famous games he'd been to with his brothers and the broomstick he'd like to get if he had the money. He was just taking Hairy through the finer points of the game when the compartment door slid open yet again, but it wasn't Neville the toadless colt, or Hermaneione Granger this time.

Three colts entered, and Hairy recognized the middle one at once: it was the white colt from Madam Malkin's Robe Shop. He was looking at Hairy with a lot more interest than he'd shown back in Dragon Alley, and he could now we that his cutie mark was a silver skull.

"Is it true?" He said, "They're saying all down the train that Hairy Trotter's in this compartment. So it's you, is it?"

"Yes," Said Hairy. He was looking at the other colts. Both of them were thickset and looked extremely mean. Standing on either side of the white colt, they looked like bodyguards.

"Oh, this is Crabbe and this is Goyle," Said the white colt carelessly, noticing where Hairy was looking, "And my name's Malfoy, Draco Malfoy."

Ron gave a slight cough, which might have been hiding a snigger. Draco Malfoy looked at him.

"Think my name's funny, do you? No need to ask who you are. My father told me all the Weasleys have red manes, red, yellow, or orange fur, freckles, and more foals than they can afford."

He turned back to Hairy. "You'll soon find out some gifted unicorn families are much better than others, Trotter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there."

He held out his hoof to shake Hairy's, but Hairy didn't take it.

"I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks," He said coolly.

Draco Malfoy didn't go red, but a pink tinge appeared under his white fur.

"I'd be careful if I were you, Trotter," He said slowly, "Unless you're a bit politer you'll go the same way as your parents. They didn't know what was good for them, either. You hang around with riffraff like the Weasleys and that Hagrid, and it'll rub off on you."

Both Hairy and Ron stood up.

"Say that again," Ron said, the skin under his fur just as red.

"Oh, you're going to fight us, are you?" Malfoy sneered.

"Unless you get out now," Said Hairy, more bravely than he felt, because Crabbe and Goyle were a lot bigger than him or Ron.

"But we don't feel like leaving, do we, colts? We've eaten all our food and you still seem to have some."

Goyle reached towards the Chocolate Frogs next to Ron- Ron leapt forward, but before he'd so much as touch Goyle, Goyle let out a horrible yell.

Scabbers the rat was hanging off his hoof, sharp little teeth sunk deep into Goyle's hoof- Crabbe and Malfoy backed away as Goyle swung Scabbers round and round, howling, and when Scabbers finally flew off and hit the window, all three of them disappeared at once. Perhaps they thought there were more rats lurking among the sweets, or perhaps they'd heard hoofsteps, because a second later, Hermaneione Granger had come in.

"What _has_ been going on?" She said, looking at the sweets all over the floor and Ron picking up Scabbers with his hoof.

"I think he's been knocked out," Ron said to Hairy. He looked closer at Scabbers, "No- I don't believe it- he's gone back to sleep."

And so he had.

"You've met Malfoy before?"

Hairy explained about their meeting in Dragon Alley.

"I've heard of his family," Said Ron darkly, "They were some of the first to come back to our side after You-Know-Who disappeared. Said they'd been bewitched. My dad doesn't believe it. He said Malfoy's father didn't need an excuse to go over to the Dark Side." He turned to Hermaneione, "Can we help you with something?"

"You'd better hurry up and put your robes on, I've just been up to the front to ask the conductor, and he says we're nearly there. You haven't been fighting, have you? You'll be in trouble before we even get there!"

"Scabbers has been fighting, not us," Said Ron, scowling at her, "Would you mind leaving while we change?"

"All right- I only came in here because ponies outside are behaving very childishly, racing up and down the corridors," Said Hermaneione in a sniffy voice, "And you've got dirt on your muzzle, by the way, did you know?"

Ron glared at her as she left. Hairy peered out of the window. It was getting dark. He could see mountains and forests under a deep purple sky. The train did seem to be slowing down.

He and Ron took off their jackets and pulled on their long black robes. Ron's were a bit short for him, you could see his back hooves underneath them.

A voice echoed through the train: "We will be reaching Celestia's School For Gifted Unicorns in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately."

Hairy's stomach lurched with nerves and Ron, he saw, looked pale under his fur. They crammed their robe pockets with the last of the sweets and joined the crowd thronging the corridor.

The train slowed right down and finally stopped. Ponies pushed their way toward the door and out on to a tiny, dark platform. Hairy shivered in the cold night air. Then a lamp came bobbing over the heads of the students, and Hairy heard a familiar, slightly muffled voice: "Firs' years! Firs' years over here! All right there, Hairy?"

Hagrid's big hairy face beamed over the sea of heads, holding a lantern in his mouth.

"C'mon, follow me- any more firs' years? Mind yer step, now! Firs' years follow me!"

Slipping and stumbling, they followed Hagrid down what seemed to be a steep,narrow path. It was so dark on either side of them that Hairy thought there must be thick trees there. Nopony spoke much. Neville, the colt who kept losing his toad, sniffed once or twice.

"Yeh'll get yer firs' sight o' Celestia's School in a sec, "Hagrid called over his shoulder, "Jus' round this bend here."

There was a loud "Oooooh!"

The narrow path had opened suddenly onto the edge of a great black lake. Perched atop a high mountain on the other side, its windows sparkling in the starry sky, was a vast castle with many turrets and towers.

"No more'n four to a boat!" Hagrid called, pointing to a fleet of little boats sitting in the water by the shore. Hairy and Ron were followed into their boat by Neville and Hermaneione.

"Everypony in?" Shouted Hagrid, who had a boat to himself, "Right then- FORWARD!"

And the fleet of little boats moved off all at once, gliding across the lake, which was as smooth as glass. Everypony was silent, staring up at the great castle overhead. It towered over them as they sailed nearer and nearer to the cliff on which it stood.

"Head's down!" Yelled Hagrid as the first boats reached the cliff; they all bent their heads and the little boats carried them through a curtain of ivy that hid a wide opening in the cliff face. They were carried along a dark tunnel, which seemed to be taking them right underneath the castle, until they reached a kind of underground harbor, where they clambered out onto rocks and pebbles.

"Oy, you there! Is this your toad?" Said Hagrid, who was checking the boats as ponies climbed out of them.

"Trevor!" Cried Neville blissfully, holding out his hoof. Then they clambered up a passageway in the rock after Hagrid's lamp, coming out at last onto smooth, damp grass right in the shadow of the castle.

The walked up a flight of stone steps and crowded around the huge, oak front door.

"Everypony here? You there, still got yer toad?"

Hagrid raised a gigantic hoof and knocked three times on the castle door.


End file.
